Blind Devotion

by dnd4evr

While on the run from a haunting past, a half-orc warlock finds himself the chance companion of a blind elf doctor. Despite her quirks, he finds great comfort in her company, and the two make fast friends...even if their enemies are never far behind. All original characters that are HIGHLY INSPIRED by the cast of Critical Role.

1. A Chance Meeting

Chapter 1

It was a crisp and cool day in Tal'Dorei, and the plains stretched for miles. Gentle hills bucked and rolled with the wind, gradually rising to distant mountains, white capped and shrouded in green. A brisk breeze wafted by, carrying the scent of grasses and fallen leaves, as most wildflowers had long since lost their color to the chill.

Jayce bit deep into an apple as he walked, briefly contemplating how far inland he was from the Lucedian Shore. It was the farthest he had ever been from the coast in his life, but necessity made for strange destinations. He glanced at the hand that held the apple, wondering if he would see another flare of that strange, dark power that somehow infected his being. It wasn't all terrible, as he slowly learned how to channel it; More than once, that power had been the difference between death and survival on this lonely road.

He finished the apple and tossed the core to the side, sighing deeply as he paused to look over the sprawling landscape. One thing he knew for sure was he would definitely need to buy a map, and soon.

He was definitely lost.

All roads lead to somewhere, and this one landed him in Kymal after just another day of walking. His supplies were low, but that was to be expected after a week on the road on foot.

The walled city of Kymal was, at first glance, as rich as the port cities, known for being hubs of trade. In fact, the supposedly central location of Kymal should have allowed it to gain this kind of wealth, but its gold came from another source. The gilded signs and flashy advertisements choking the streets gave evidence of a faster coin, that which was gained and lost through gambling.

Even just walking through the gates, Jayce was beset by hawkers and scantily clad women, brandishing signs for the Maiden's Kiss, the largest of the three main gambling halls. After accidentally making eye contact with a group of rather attractive dancers, a dwarven woman even blew him a kiss as he passed, heavily implying with her posture that she was a maiden worth deflowering. Jayce blushed, turned his eyes to the ground, and hurriedly moved on.

First things first; he glanced around for any sort of adventurer's or herbalist shop, as he was nursing a large bruise on his side and a healing potion would sort that quickly. Jayce opened his money pouch and counted his savings, grimacing at how low it had become. He knew he had enough for one potion, maybe two, and food, but after that he would have to look for work or rely on luck. A twinge of pain above his hip reminded him how reliable his luck was, and he steeled himself for facing off with a shopkeep.

The sharp, cold breeze whipped by him, blowing an errant page of some advertisement past his feet. The momentary distraction proved fruitful, because it pointed him toward Yurkel's Merchandise, a general goods store that was sure to have what he needed. Jayce shouldered his pack more solidly, tugged his hood back over his head, and stepped inside.

The store was small, a single room bisected by a large, thin table laden with baskets and low crates of herbs and foods, flanked on either side by simple tools and kitchen gear. One wall was barely visible behind barrels and boxes of bulk goods, grains and vegetables and the like, and the proprietor of the shop was busy showing a human couple the advantages to owning copper cookware, over the typical pewter or tin. The shopkeep himself was human as well, balding and rounded from either a comfortable life or a bad habit with beer, and his voice was gruff, but friendly to the couple.

Then he turned to Jayce.

Jayce rolled his eyes as the shopkeep visibly soured and pointedly ignored him. This reaction was all too familiar this deep inland, and he had learned to live with it. He already began wondering how steep the shopkeep would try to price gouge him if Jayce tried to purchase anything here.

The door jerked open and a large, heavily scarred man in dark leather armor and an eyepatch shoved past him, ignoring Jayce's remarks at surprise and indignation. The new customer marched right up to the counter, and the shopkeep huffed and puffed to try and head off the obviously angry man.

"Good afternoon, si-"

The armored man held up a hand and a one-eyed glare that could have killed a small creature of lesser constitution. "Health potions," he hissed.

"Of course!" The shopkeeper shook, trying to force a smile as he reached below the counter and pulled out a small wooden box with a locked latch. The few seconds it took to undo the lock became ever more tense as the armored man made it very clear he was impatient with every rap of his fingers on the wooden counter.

"I have…" the shopkeep peered into the box, having made sure he opened it away from the armored man. "I have three potions."

Jayce noticed a very beautiful, shiny silver platter on the back wall, behind the shopkeeper. It was polished to a near mirror shine, and in fact, it did reflect the box quite well. Jayce managed to count five potions before the shopkeeper closed the lid.

The armored man grunted with a nod. "I'll take the lot."

The shopkeep nodded in response. "That will be one hundred and fifty gold, good sir."

The adventurer tossed a coin purse on the counter and Jayce noted with amusement that the shopkeep didn't even count the coins before handing over the three vials of reddish liquid. And just like that, the armored man charged his way back out, likely to share whatever bad day he was having with the locals.

The other couple had decided to discuss among themselves which pots were ideal for their kitchen, so Jayce set his jaw, took a breath to steady himself, and turned to the shopkeep.

"Good sir!" he said, cheerily.

The shopkeep again turned sour, slammed shut the little wooden box, and shuffled it under the counter.

As there was no other response, Jayce continued. "I would like to inquire about health-"

"We're out, orc spawn."

And there it was. Jayce sighed, and walked up to the counter. It was very hard to miss his green hued skin and yellow, predator-like eyes, even though he lacked the tusks of his father race, the orcs. Thankfully, he only shared half a kinship with them, as he was half human as well. He assumed, anyway. It was a bit difficult to trace his parentage.

"Good sir," Jayce tried again, clearly emphasizing each word before continuing. "I happen to know, for a fact, you had five vials, and you sold three. Now, I may be a child of some nasty orc, but even they can do simple math. You have two in that fancy box of yours, and I would like to purchase them."

The shopkeep glared at Jayce, who simply smiled and pulled back his hood, now that he was outed by the man. The couple browsing cookware gasped, but they were polite enough to try and keep their shock to themselves.

The shopkeep sized Jayce from head to toe several times before slowly pulling out the box, never taking his eyes from the half-orc in front of him. "I'll sell you one. Ninety gold."

Jayce resisted the urge to rub his temples and swear, and instead put on that kind, charismatic smile he had learned to rely on. "Now that's a shame. I had intended to buy two, but I guess I'll have to settle. Now, my good man, I'll buy that health potion, and I'll also throw in some free rumors for trade."

As if some buzzword had been bandied about, the couple visibly perked up and less effectively hid their attempt to eavesdrop, as they had all but abandoned their shopping. Even the shopkeep looked curious, but still puckered his face like he was sucking on a lemon.

"I know for a fact that I'm not the only non-human about these parts, and I'm more than sure such a community of people would like to be aware which establishments make them pay for their heritage, and not their product." Jayce leaned on the counter, matching the shopkeeper's eyes and held them solidly as he spoke. "So, for the price of ninety gold for a health potion, I'll start a few rumors about who had to pay how much for things as simple as grain. I'll tell them exactly what I paid, and now I'm curious… Do you charge a fair price to only humans, or only the ones who scare you to death with threatening behaviour?"

The couple listening in began to whisper to themselves, and Jayce leaned his chin on his palm, making sure to flash the shopkeeper the smuggest grin he could manage. He wasn't sure he had the shopkeeper over a barrel, but he knew if he looked like he did, he would likely get at least one potion at a fairer price.

The shopkeeper began to turn a lovely shade of red as he pulled out the two vials, nearly slamming them on the counter but refusing to move his not-insignificant hand from the potential purchase.

"One hundred gold. For the pair," the man spat.

"Thank ya kindly, my good man," Jayce smiled, thickly laying on his accent while handing over the coin. "And may the Dawnfather bring you blessings aplenty."

The shopkeep continued to hold the vials hostage as he pain-stakingly counted the coins, twice, before shoving the purchase at Jayce, who had to scramble to catch them. Jayce mimed tipping a hat to the man, said good day, and turned to leave.

"And don't you dare show your face in here again, you...creature!" the shopkeeper screeched, when Jayce was safely past the door.

"Asshole…" Jayce mumbled to himself, finally checking the vials to make sure he had been given what was promised. Indeed, both seemed to be health potions, so he tucked one in an inner pocket of his travel pack and attempted to pop the cork on the second. He was interrupted by a deep rumbling in his stomach, made all the more prominent by the twinge of pain caused by the bruise on his side. He looked at the potion, briefly considered taking the elixir on an empty stomach, then gave up and put the vial in his coin purse on his belt. He'd think better after a meal, and he seemed to remember something about not taking potions before one ate.

Thankfully, a tavern was just down the road. Past busking street performers and already drunk patrons in fancy garb, The Road's Respite was bustling with commerce, both local and foreign, and showed a plethora of races both within and beyond the doors. Dwarves and humans swapped tales, a few elves joked with gnomes, and Jayce swore he saw a halfling duck under a table as he wondered inside. The barkeep was a much kinder man, another human, but greying with age and showing liver spots on his face and hands. His eyes were soft and his temperament was a true blessing after Jayce's recent shopping experience.

"Hail, traveler!" the barkeep beamed, and Jayce wondered if this was what grandfathers looked like. "I'm Bertrand, and I own the Road's Respite. What brings you in to town?"

Jayce slid into a seat at the bar and smiled kindly in return. "I'm traveling to the wizard's college in Westruun. I figured I'd try my hand at it."

Bertrand looked surprised, but amused. "I gotta say, I haven't heard of a half-orc 'trying a hand' at magic before."

Jayce nodded with a sigh. "Yes, yes, I know, we're all brutish idiots like full blooded orcs. How dare we gain an education-!"

"Now let me stop you there," Bertrand said, holding up a hand to emphasize his point. "I've offended you, and that won't do. You hungry? Spin a good tale, and I'll toss in a drink for free."

It was an offer Jayce couldn't refuse. He regaled his sailing days to Bertrand, of tropical and exotic places he had visited upon the sea, spoken with affection and nostalgia. By the time he had finished his tale, Jayce had finished several drinks as well, and he had to catch himself, several times, from revealing his newfound magical powers.

Jayce suppressed a burp and glanced behind him at the doorway, which no longer glowed with the light of day behind it. "How long have I been talking?"

Bertrand snickered, nodding to a young man to continue serving the other patrons. "Oh, several hours. With all the love you have for the sea, I'm surprised you left it."

"Well, necessity...necessity makes… Ah. Lost it." Jayce rubbed his face and pushed away the mug. "I think I'm done. How much do I owe you?"

"Three silver for a room, and we're even."

Jayce paused for a moment, wondering if he had heard wrong through whatever mental fog had been caused by the beer. "Did I...already pay for the meal?"

Bertrand picked up the mug and began to clean it. "Oh yes, and the drinks. For a man who never left Kymal, I travel through the stories of the people who come through here. Yours took me farther than I had ever been, and told so well… Are you, by chance, a bard?"

Jayce snickered, steadying himself on the bar. "No, but honestly, that's not the first I've heard that."

Voices erupted into laughter behind him, and Jayce turned too quickly to see what caused the commotion. Thankfully, he had steadied himself, and so only slipped off his stool instead of completely falling to the ground.

"I'll take that room, good sir," Jayce winced.

"Done!" Bertrand laughed, pulling out a key from his apron pocket. "Let's see, room four, upstairs. Enjoy your night."

Jayce handed over the three silver and made sure to keep the key solidly in his palm as he slowly turned and began looking for the stairs. He spotted his quarry in a back corner, but as he began walking toward it, he tripped over a chair that was thankfully empty. He clumsily offered an apology before attempting to reset the chair, and stepped back just in time for a young woman to stumble over the same chair with such force that she collapsed to the floor with a heavy thud.

The same voices from earlier exploded into louder laughter, and the woman slammed her fist into the floor. Jayce, mortified, almost tripped himself trying to reach her on the floor.

"Ma'am, I am so, so sorry," he said as he tried to grab her arm to help her up. "That chair was-"

His voice caught in his throat. She was wearing a bandage over her eyes. Not only had he accidently tripped some random, likely undeserving stranger, he had tripped a blind woman.

"It's fine!" she spat, practically throwing off his arm and waving around for the nearby table before pulling herself back up to her feet. "It's a hazard of being blind. I'm used to it. Now leave me be!"

Jayce took a second to take in what had happened, as his mind was still dulled by alcohol. She was wearing the bandage over her eyes, yes, but she had dark, greasy looking hair tied up in a messy bun, pasty, almost shiny ivory skin, and an oil cloth short coat that seemed several sizes too big for her. A clunky messenger bag was resting over her shoulder, and the strap looked scratched and worn. He was briefly confused over how the bandage looked so clean while the rest of her looked so messy.

And she was an elf. He clued in to that part when she pulled the bandage back over her ear. She was also very angry, and he was concerned that was because of him.

"There must be some way I can make it up to you," he said, suddenly remembering the key in his palm and thankful he hadn't dropped it. "Can I walk you up to your room, and possibly fend off any other errant chairs?"

The two men sharing dinner at the table next to them found this funny and audibly laughed, but the woman seemed more annoyed than amused.

She pulled something out of a pouch on her belt and held it out to Jayce. It was a key with the number five etched on the head of it.

"Just tell me what number this is, and we're even."

"Uh, five." Jayce wondered if Bertrand hadn't told her the room number when he handed off the key.

"Those bloody-! Ugh. Yes, I'll need your help. Those...men," she spat, "at the table behind me told me the number was twelve. I bet this inn doesn't even have twelve rooms. I should have ordered my own...room!"

Considering how angry she seemed, Jayce was honestly surprised she was making such an effort to curb her own language. He held out an arm toward her, in the way he assumed a gentleman would.

"Would you care to take my arm then?" he asked, hoping she could hear the smile in his voice.

"Absolutely not. I'll grab your elbow, you grab mine. Lead me to the stairs, and once we get to room five, you'll leave. Easy enough? Or are you as drunk as you smell?"

Jayce halted his reach for her arm. "Hold on now, I'm offering my service to you as a kindness. There's no need for that kind of salt between us."

"Just…!" The woman looked as if she was about to touch her face, either to pinch the bridge of her nose or rub her temple, but instead just tensely gestured her frustration. "Just get me to my room. Please."

"Better. Here," Jayce said, gently grabbing her just above the elbow as she had asked him to. She twisted her arm to do the same, and Jayce was amazed that the resulting connection was both solid and a comfortable leading distance. "The stairs are to the right from here. I'll get you through the tables."

"I'm blind, not stupid. But yes, this will be faster."

Jayce let out a sigh. He definitely didn't feel drunk anymore.

Being much more careful of his step this time, Jayce led her through the tables, ducking patrons and dodging remarks about his grace from drunkards who had seen the previous display. Once at the stairs, he came to a sudden stop when she tugged him backward, as she wasn't aware of the depth of the steps and therefore wanted him to slow down. He was embarrassed he hadn't thought of that, and allowed her to take her time up the stairs.

"Let's see… One, two… And there it is. Room 5." Jayce made sure to lead her hand over to the doorknob so she knew exactly where it was. "Now, if I may, why were those men lying to you?"

The woman sighed and, again, restrained herself from rubbing her frustration off her face. "They're my current travelling companions. I can't tell you why, but they think it's hilarious to mislead me and trick me, just because I can't see anything. Their first outburst was because they had slipped ale into my drink and I was thoroughly disgusted when I took a sip. They had been jabbering so loudly I didn't hear one of them spike my mug. I assume they were hoping I would end up walking into someone else's room and not even notice until I was told."

Jayce screwed up his face in disgust. "I hope they end up blind like you. I'd be perfectly willing to show them the same treatment."

"Then you're one of a kind," the woman sighed again, her fingers tracing the edge of the doorknob. She paused, and Jayce wondered if he should bid her goodnight and leave, but his room was literally the next door over and he was concerned it would be awkward.

As he contemplated the proper course of action, she suddenly turned toward him.

"Actually," she said, "could you do one last thing for me?"

"O-of course!" He didn't mean to stammer, but he hadn't expected another request. "What do you need?"

"Could you describe the room for me? It makes it a little less of a guessing game when I'm trying to settle in for the night, and I have a feeling you'll actually tell me what's there and not what you think I'll be shocked to find."

"Absolutely! Lead the way, ma'am." Even though she couldn't see it, he smiled warmly and motioned toward the door. And then he immediately felt silly.

The woman unlocked the door, faintly showing a smile herself, and pushed it open. "And...my name is Dahlia. Dahlia the Blind Surgeon."

Jayce followed her into the sparse room. "I'm Jayce. You're a doctor?"

"Yes, mostly. There are some ailments I can't treat without someone to describe the bile or symptoms, but most wounds and breaks, such as what an adventurer deals with, I can handle well enough."

"I'm impressed!" Jayce looked around the room. There was a single person bed, a simple chair, and a table that was so small it was practically a nightstand. An oil lantern was bolted to the wall by the door, but his cat-like eyes had enough light from the hallway to see everything of note.

Jayce saw an opportunity and seized it. "I suppose you'd like to know about everything except the lamp."

Dahlia's face twitched in a smile. "While they tend not to be very useful to me, I'd like to know where it is in case it's loose and I could potentially knock it over."

"In that case, you'll be fine. It's bolted to the wall next to the door."

"That's convenient." Dahlia pushed past him into the room and stood in the center, her hands out to each side. "Tell me what's around me?"

Jayce looked around the room one last time and leaned on the doorframe. "There's a bed to your right, the headboard is toward me, and at the end of it is a very small table and a standard chair. Whoever had the room last didn't put the chair back, so it's about a foot to the left of the table, just under the window."

Dahlia made a slow nod, shifting her feet slowly until her shin tapped the side of the bed. "It's lower than I was expecting," she mumbled as she brushed her hands across it.

"Just a quick question." Jayce shifted to stand again. "Wouldn't it be easier to feel things if you weren't wearing gloves?"

Dahlia huffed. "Yes, it would make my life easier, but I'm constantly touching things that are filthy, and then attempting to touch wounds. Or my food. I can't tell if the bed is clean or disgusting until I try to smell it."

"It, uh, looks clean," Jayce stammered. He had never thought of that, and now that thought would haunt him every time he looked at a bed.

Dahlia sat on the bed. "Is there anything on the opposite wall, and does the window have shutters, or some sort of covering?"

Jayce was surprised. "No, and no. Why would you care if the window has shutters?"

"Because I can feel sunlight." She traced her palm with her fingers and, as much as she could with the blindfold, looked distant. "Next time you watch a sunrise, let the light touch your face. Feel how it warms your skin. Like a wave of loving heat passing over you, subtle and soft."

Her words brought up a memory of watching the sunrise while on leave from sailing, feeling warm ocean water washing over his feet while on shore.

"That's," he cleared his throat, "very poetic. So, I'm actually the room next door, to your right as you leave."

"Oh. So you're behind that blank wall."

Jayce glanced at the wall. "Uh, yeah, actually. I'll try not to snore."

A smile danced across her face again, but was quickly gone. She rolled an edge of the quilt between her fingers. "Thank you for that. And, before you go, I feel like I should pay you back for all the help you've given me."

Jayce tried to wave it off, but remembered just a second too late that she couldn't see his gestures. "Don't mention it. Just being kind."

"Then let me be kind in return." Dahlia held out her hand to him. "Just give me your hand."

Jayce's eyes darted between Dahlia, the bed, and her hand, noting the dim lighting and how small and private the room was, and his mind immediately went to a few scenes he had read in a particularly intimate novel when he was younger. He was very glad she couldn't see how deeply he was blushing.

"Whoa there! I'm not interested in a physical favor, ma'am. A plain ol' thank you's fine."

Dahlia's jaw tightened and she held out her hand more emphatically. "Just give me your freaking hand."

Nervous and concerned, Jayce considered just telling her goodnight and running, but he had also told her where he was sleeping, and he wasn't yet sure if the doors locked from the inside. He swallowed hard, wished his face would stop feeling like it was on fire, and gently placed his hand in hers.

There was a short pause as Jayce winced and caught his breath, just waiting for when she would yank him down to the bed, but the seconds counted longer and longer, and nothing happened. He finally looked down at her, and she was tracing the back of his armored glove with her fingers.

"Can you take this off?" she asked.

Genuinely caught off guard, Jayce complied, and placed his exposed hand back in hers. Again, she traced his fingers with her own, and her touch was so light and soft, he felt the heat returning to his cheeks.

Even with her eyes covered, Dahlia had the look of intense concentration and focus. Jayce felt childish for even thinking there was anything intimate about what she was doing.

Without warning, her grip became firm and she drove her thumbs into the pad of his hand, almost causing him to yelp in pain from the surprise. She kept the pressure consistent, and worked the joints of his fingers and wrist in-between massaging his muscles in his palm and forearm.

Jayce had no idea what she was doing and was genuinely shocked at the effect it seemed to have on his hand. "That...actually feels really nice. Thank you."

"If you're not in too much of a hurry to escape, I can work on your other hand," Dahlia snickered.

Jayce slapped a hand to his face. "I'm mighty sorry, ma'am. I have no idea how you clued in on that, but I shouldn't have questioned your intentions."

"It's fine," Dahlia giggled. "I haven't heard someone as flustered as you in a while. I'm flattered."

Dahlia released his hand and Jayce gave it a few test flexes, marveling at how limber his fingers felt. He hadn't realized how sore his wrist had been until the slight pain was gone.

"If, it's no trouble, ma'am-"

"Dahlia, please."

Jayce chuckled to himself and worked his thumb into his freshly worked palm. "Dahlia, right. Miss Dahlia, would you mind workin' my other hand?"

Dahlia held out her hand in reply. "Just take off the glove first."

"Of course." Jayce started pulling the glove off, then paused. "Would it help if I sat next to you?"

Dahlia mulled it over, then nodded. "It would, but I won't force you. I've been told I bite."

Jayce couldn't help but snicker at the thought and sat next to her. The bed was lumpy, but decent, and far better than a bedroll. He held out his now noticeably stiffer hand and she treated it in the same fashion.

Jayce watched with fascination for a minute. "Where'd you learn this?"

Dahlia shrugged as she continued to massage his hand. "Back at university, I'd do something similar to my own hands after class. I began to notice that if I worked the muscles in the direction of the fibers, according to the diagrams in my anatomy books, they'd feel better."

Fibers? Muscles had fibers? He had so many questions, but he was also feeling the effects of the alcohol starting to creep back up on him.

"Well, if you're willing, and still around come morning, I'd enjoy a longer conversation with you, but it's late, and you should sleep."

"Yes, I should sleep. Said the man who's been trying to suppress a yawn for three minutes."

Jayce laughed to himself. "Your hearing is surprisingly sharp."

She shrugged as she let go of his hand. "No more sensitive than any of my race. Just more practiced and focused."

Jayce flexed the hand and slipped his gloves back on. "It's still impressive."

"And it's also still late." Dahlia stretched and rubbed her own hands. "Goodnight. Sleep well on your side of the wall."

Jayce bid her goodnight, stepped out of her room, and closed the door behind him. He was really amazed at the variety one tended to find while traveling. One never really could tell who they were going to meet.

He unlocked his own room, just to the right of Dahlia's, and stepped inside. It was nearly identical except for the stains and wear specific to his own room's personality, and a pane of his window being blocked off by a small plank of wood. He shrugged off his coat and started unfastening his armor, then glanced at the bed. Dahlia's comment about the general filth of the world around him lurked in his mind, and, morbidly curious, he bent close to give the mattress a sniff.

The reward was an assault of the scent of dust, unwashed bodies, and a general layer of musty odors that made it obvious the bed had been used for sexual relations. Jayce recoiled and covered his mouth, suppressed a dry heave, and dug through his own knapsack for his bedroll. He felt much more confident about sleep once he stretched it over the mattress.

Confident in the cleanliness of his own gear, he stretched out over the bed and took a deep breath to relax. The room started to slowly spin, reminding him of his recent imbibement. Another deep breath, soft and slow, helped him anchor himself to the idea he was lying down, and he started to drift off to sleep.

A violent wooden crash startled him so completely he almost launched himself off the bed. Gripping his chest and panting, his eyes shot around the room as he looked for the threat.

His room was clear...but Jayce could hear voices through the wall next to the bed. He leaned his head against the wood panelling and held his breath, hoping he could hear past the pounding in his ears.

"You're useless, you bitch!"

That voice sounded familiar. A gruff man.

"I only have so much power per day! You can't run a mile without gasping for air; I can't heal you every single time you get stabbed! It's how it works!"

That was obviously Dahlia. She had healing magic? She was a cleric?

"You're supposed to keep us alive! We nearly died today!"

"I told you facing off with an owl bear was a bad idea! Why didn't you listen to me?!"

A sharp crack, and Jayce winced and covered his mouth. The man had struck her.

"Don't you dare talk back to me, you useless cunt! I had to throw away our bounty buying fuckin' healing potions!"

There was a pause. Jayce's heart was racing. Should he intervene?

"Damn straight it came out of your share, you useless bitch."

"Why not out of your brother's share? He's the one who tipped it off!"

There was another crack, and the sound of wood clattering against the floor. Jayce had enough; He leapt off the bed, grabbed his sword from its sheath, and ripped open his own door.

Towering over Dahlia was a familiar man in heavy dark leathers, covered in scars. Dahlia had collapsed on the ground, having crashed into the one chair in the room, which had been upended in the scuffle. Jayce's eyes darted around the room, and decided on a desperate move.

Jayce leapt forward and slammed his shoulder into the large man, using the moment of surprise to throw the man off balance. Dahlia seemed to be well aware of Jayce's action, and struck out with her leg, cracking into the inside of the man's knee as he tripped. He toppled over her, roaring with rage, as he tumbled into the overturned chair and slammed his face into the wall below the window.

Jayce used the momentum of tumbling forward to grab Dahlia's arm and yanked her to her feet, pulling her out of the room. He regretted bringing his sword as he had to shoulder his own door open to hide them inside.

He managed to close the door just in time for the large man to make it into the hallway, screaming for Dahlia to come back, and for whoever just attacked him to man up and face him. Jayce kept a shoulder against the door as the man called him a coward and a bastard, while charging down the hall to the stairs.

Tense seconds passed. It drew into a minute. Dahlia kneeled down and put her ear to the floor.

"I think...I think we're safe, now," she whispered. She shifted her weight back on her heels, and almost touched her face, before deciding instead to rub her shoulder.

Jayce pulled away from the door and kneeled in front of her. "Are you okay, ma'am?"

She sighed and shifted to sitting cross-legged on the floor. "My face is sore, and I'm pretty sure I banged my hip on the way down, but I'm fine. Nothing a good sleep won't fix."

"Well, you're the doctor."

Jayce paused a moment, wondering if it would be too forward to check her for bruises, as she couldn't see. He couldn't see a bruise on her face...or even a red mark from where she was struck. It was dark in the room, of course, but his vision should have been enough to see that.

He reached for her cheek, the one he assumed had been struck, but somehow she seemed to notice and smacked his hand away.

Dahlia jumped up to her feet and turned away. "Don't touch me!"

"M-my apologies, ma'am," Jayce said, stammering as he stood up. "I'm just concerned. Where'd he hit you? I couldn't see the mark on your face."

"You said it yourself," she hissed, her back to him and her arms crossed. "I'm the doctor. I can take care of myself."

Jayce sighed and rubbed the offended hand. "I ain't arugin' that, ma'am-"

"It's Dahlia, for...crying out loud!" She pressed her hands into her blindfold.

Jayce bit his lip, then continued. "Dahlia. I was just concerned, is all. That man was practically twice my size and he knocked you to the floor. That ain't right, especially bein' a healer."

He stepped toward her, quietly and cautiously, and tried to place a hand on her shoulder in a manner that he hoped was both sympathetic and calming. The second his fingers touched her shoulder, she whipped around, elbowing him, hard, in the side with the bruise from that morning.

It had completely slipped his mind, but it was quite hard to forget now.

"Fucking hell!" he spat, recoiling backward and holding his side. The entire left side of his stomach flared with angry pain as he gripped himself in a vain attempt to staunch the ache.

Dahlia whirled to face him. "What happened?!"

"You fucking hit me!" Jayce grimaced and limped to the bed, landing hard on his bedroll. "Gods, right where that goblin nailed me earlier… Just my fuckin' luck!"

"You…"

Her voice was soft and shaking. He looked up, confused and concerned.

"You came to my aid, barely knowing me and already injured?"

Jayce laughed to himself as the pain throbbed. "If I've learned nothin' else, travelling alone, I learned t' always be polite to the healers. It ain't right t' insult the man in charge of savin' your life."

Dahlia stepped toward him, slowly waving her hands in front to find him. "Just the 'man' in charge?"

It was slight, but her voice held a smile.

"Woman too. I ain't one to judge."

Dahlia's hand brushed his knee, and from there she found the edge of the bed. She checked that there was enough room for her to sit and moved into the space next to him as Jayce gave her a confused look.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she spoke first.

"May I examine the bruise?"

Jayce bit his lip again, nervous about potentially taking his shirt off in front of this woman he barely knew, but then he remembered she was blind, and a professional, and he again felt ridiculous. However, she was sitting on his right side, so there wasn't much she'd be able to do from there.

"Of course. It's on my left."

Dahlia's jaw tightened in a moment of slight embarrassment. "Of course. I'll just...move to the other side of you then. First. Then I'll look at the bruise."

Jayce had to smile at her moment of weakness. He felt his tension melt a bit, knowing she could also be flustered.

She shifted to the other side of him, bumping into his knee but he made no comment, and he lifted the left of his tunic so she could examine the bruise. She started by tapping her fingertips just above his belt on his hip, then moving upward until Jayce felt a sharp pain and swore.

"And that's the bottom edge of the bruise…" she mumbled, holding that hand in place while tapping her free hand just under his first rib.

"Can I help show you where it is?!" Jayce grunted, flinching as she tapped the upper edge.

"Just grit your teeth and let me work. You got hit right next to a rib; I'd like to know it's not broken before I potentially press on the bruise to apply a salve."

Jayce was shocked into silence and stared forward in the dark room, completely grateful she was knowledgeable enough to think about that. A cracked rib hadn't even come to mind after being struck with a crude wooden cudgel, but then again, that's what those weapons were designed to do in battle.

Dahlia found the left edge of the bruise, and it was still tender enough to cause Jayce to swear in a way only a sailor could, but under his breath as he was attempting to be polite.

"Interesting curses," Dahlia snickered. She had one gloved hand against the near entirety of the bruise as she searched for the right edge. "I haven't heard half of those before."

"Ya tend t' get creative, being stuck on the sea for months at a time…" Jayce mumbled, working his lip between his teeth as he tried to find a distraction in the room. He should have taken that potion with his meal.

"You're a sailor?"

"I was." Jayce turned to look at her, but paused as he noticed a golden glow shimmering around her fingers. Delicate glittering specks of sunlight seemed to fall from her fingertips as she pressed them, without pain, to his bruise. Simply from the light of her magic, he watched in awe as the dark purple bruise began to shrink and fade away, returning to the vibrant green of his normal hue.

"Didn't...you tell that man you didn't have any magic left?" Jayce said, poking his own side to confirm the bruise was gone.

Dahlia shrugged and sat up straight again. "That man, Malcolm, has a habit of getting mean when he's drunk, so I try to pace myself to have a little bit left in the evenings."

Jayce couldn't believe she mentioned it so casually and looked at her with disbelief. "Don't tell me he makes a habit of smacking you around."

"It's either me or either of the boys. It's worse when it's his little brother, Sylas. Sy looks up to him, and it crushes him when Malcolm strikes him."

Jayce was too upset to sit still and hopped off the bed. "And these are the same men who harass you because they think it's funny to take advantage of the fact you can't even see?!"

Dahlia touched her forehead, right between her eyes under the blindfold, in frustration before facing Jayce once more. "Yes, they are. I don't have a lot of options for travelling companions. I can't read road signs, I can't drive a horse, I can't trust half of the world to give me correct...freaking change, and on top of that, barely anyone except the truly desperate even consider trusting a blind doctor!"

Jayce couldn't think of a retort quickly enough, as when he chose to speak, she hissed a warning to stay quiet and softly tip-toed to the door. Still angry, although he couldn't decide if it was at her travelling companions as a whole or individual ones specifically, he watched her in confusion as she rested an ear against the door.

Footsteps crossed the hall outside his door, and the voices shifted from his doorway to the wall by his bed. He kneeled on the bed and listened through the wall again.

"-she'll come back?" A young voice he hadn't heard before was talking to someone.

"This is her fuckin' bag. She'll be back," growled a second, far more familiar voice. Malcolm, from his best guess.

Dahlia slipped onto the bed and also leaned an ear against the wall. Jayce wondered if she knew she was facing him.

"What if she doesn't come back?" a third voice interjected, sounding much more impatient than the other two. "We can't afford to just wait around for that bitch to show up."

"Then we ask around, dumbass. She's a blind elf, and she doesn't even trust us. She won't make it a mile on her own, and anyone she talks to is gonna remember her."

"See, that's why you're the boss, bro!"

Jayce failed to resist rolling his eyes.

"You're so smart at these things!" the young voice continued.

"You bet I am. We're gonna guard this room in shifts. I got the first. You two get to your rooms, and I'll come get ya when I need to sleep. I don't want this room empty for even a second, you hear me?"

"Yeah, we got it." Jayce could hear the impatient voice huff. "And when she does get back, what's the plan?"

"We do what we should'a done when we first recruited her. We break her. She won't fuckin' cross us again."

Jayce looked at Dahlia, and even with the blindfold, he could see she was scared. These men were literally planning to abuse her while she listened. Bracing himself for another elbow to the ribs, or anything similar, he slipped his hand between her shoulder and the wall. When she didn't immediately lash out, he pulled her away and turned her shoulder to have her face him.

"You can sleep here tonight," he whispered, perfectly aware how easily sound traveled through these walls. "I'll sleep on the floor. In the morning...we'll find a way to get your supplies back, and then, if you feel fine followin' a land ignorant idiot, you can follow me on the road."

The voices on the other side of the wall droned on for several long minutes, with Malcolm being discernible from the other two only when he raised his voice, which was often. Jayce watched her flinch every time Malcolm swore audibly through the wall, and her face was screwed up in intense thought as she tried to convince herself one way or the other.

"You ain't gotta decide now, ma-Dahlia, but I will insist you stay the night. And I already checked; the bed's filthy, so my bedroll's on it. Ain't sure if it's better, but at least I can tell ya what you gotta wash off in the morning, so that's hopefully an improvement."

Dahlia badly suppressed a laugh, and choked back sobs. She was very careful about pressing the blindfold against her eyes to sop up unseen tears.

"I...barely know more than your name, Jayce. I don't know what you look like, where you're from… Nothing, and yet...you've already done more to make me trust you than almost anyone I've met. If you'll have me, I'll share the road with you."

Jayce smiled and patted her shoulder. "That definitely makes me feel better about my chances, knowin' I'll have an experienced adventurer behind me."

She huffed with a tired smile, and her shoulders slumped with exhaustion.

"I'll, uh, move to the floor then. My coat should be enough. Sleep well, Dahlia."

He slipped off the bed and Dahlia didn't respond. She pulled up the hood of her coat and flopped heavily on the bed, curling up into a small lump, turning her back towards him.

Jayce shrugged to himself and glanced around the room for his coat. As his bedroll was occupied, that would be his best bet for some sort of padding between himself and the floor.

It was stretched over the back of the chair, so it was short work to toss it across the floor and settle himself down to sleep. It wasn't too different from sleeping on the road, and even closer to sleeping on deck, and sleep quickly took him.

He was floating. Cold. He was exposed. He was drowning.

He couldn't tell which way was up. He couldn't even see the air escaping his lungs as he struggled to feel any sort of purchase. Where was the surface? The light? Anything?

A beam of light pierced the darkness. Golden and bright, it reminded him of Dahlia's magic. He twisted toward it, his chest burning from the lack of air.

They were eyes. Cold, intense, yellow eyes. Something gripped his leg in the darkness. He fought, tried to kick it off, but it held fast. The eyes encroached on him, boring into him.

Whatever gripped his leg crawled up toward his torso, wrapping him completely. His arms were bound to his sides. The light of the yellow eyes began to dim as he felt his consciousness slipping away.

Searing pain pierced his chest, four points on each side between his ribs, directly into his lungs. His lungs filled, and he could breathe.

The air felt heavy, thick, he knew he was breathing water. How? He looked toward the eyes.

"Mine, child. You are mine. Find me."

The voice echoed in his mind with no source, but he knew whatever the eyes belonged to must be the owner of the voice.

"Obedience begets reward."

Darkness.

Jayce shot up from his makeshift bed, covered in a cold sweat and panting. His eyes had to adjust to the darkness, and seeing the walls and patting the floor was enough to convince him the dream was over.

He glanced over at the bed, and Dahlia was sleeping in the same position he had last seen her. Either no time had passed, or she was a very still sleeper.

The inn was quiet around him, still and silent in the darkness. Even with his heart pounding in his chest, a sense of calm started to wash over him. It was just a dream.

Then he noticed he couldn't hear anything through the wall, and a potentially bad idea crept into his mind. If whoever was guarding Dahlia's old room had fallen asleep, perhaps he could grab her bag before anyone noticed, and they could slip away in the morning. Or maybe even in the middle of the night and get some distance. Well, that was step two. First step, getting the bag.

Jayce rolled, gently, to his knees, listening for any alert and watching if Dahlia would stir. He tested his weight on one foot, holding his breath for a second before convincing himself he was still in the clear.

The progress to the door was excruciatingly slow, and his mind was a war of caution and impatience. His fingers wrapped around the doorknob, and with one last pause, he was confident he was not heard. He opened the door and snuck out into the dimly lit hallway.

Jayce chuckled to himself as he slowly closed the door behind him. If this worked out, perhaps he should moonlight as a thief! Or a spy. Like one of those adventure novels he was obsessed with when he was younger.

The door to room five was slightly ajar, and he sidled as close as he could to the door to peek through the resulting gap. The room inside was barely lit with the lamp on the doorframe, and Jayce noticed one of the younger men from Dahlia's group slumped over in a chair...and snoring.

Jayce clenched his jaw and steeled himself. He gently nudged the door, and was delighted to learn it did not creak. With that knowledge, he pushed the door far enough to sneak inside, and slowly began making his way to the center of the room.

The man nearly choked on his own phlegm as he snored, but rather than wake, he shifted to lean his head on the wall instead of his chest. Jayce risked a remarkably restrained puff of relief as he scanned the floor for the bag.

"Of course…" he hissed, then cursed himself for speaking aloud, as quietly as it was. The bag was between the man's feet, under the chair he was propped up on.

Jayce shifted to his knees on the floor and slowly started to reach for the bag. He could feel the sweat starting to collect on his brow as his fingers curled around the edge of it.

With his quarry in hand, he yanked the bag toward himself, hoping to just grab it and run, and was terrified to learn the strap was around both the leg of the chair and the leg of the man. Jayce had managed to completely pull the chair out from under the sleeping mercenary, sending him crashing, and screaming, to the floor.

Jayce flew to his feet and knew he had less than a second to do anything, so he smacked a hand to his chest and cast Mask of Many Faces, making himself look like Malcolm, the only mercenary he had really seen enough of to convincingly build a disguise.

"The fuck is wrong with you?!" the mercenary spat, pulling himself to his feet. Then he saw whom he addressed.

Jayce growled, and tried his best to sound like the enraged Malcolm from earlier. "Why the fuck you asleep?"

Even in the dim light of the room, the man visibly blanched. "I-I ain't asleep, boss! I swear! I was just restin' my eyes a moment! I swear she never came back!"

The supposed Malcolm brandished the bag and shook it in the man's face. "I'm takin' this. I'm not waiting around for her to slip in and out like a rat with you sleepin' like a milksop baby."

"R-right right! Sure! Yes, good idea. I'll, uh, come get you in a few hours, when it's your shift."

Jayce nodded. "You better. I catch you sleepin' again I'll make sure you won't wake up."

With that, he turned and left, not waiting for a response, and didn't bother closing the door. The man behind him slumped on the bed, looking as if he had just narrowly escaped death.

Once he was out of sight of the door, and just in front of his own, he checked both ends of the hall before dropping the spell. In his haste, he gripped the doorknob and forgot to check if it would creak when he pushed it open.

Creeeaaaaaak…

Jayce winced, waited half a second to make sure the mercenary wasn't getting out of his chair, and upon hearing nothing, he ducked back into his room.

Dahlia was sitting on the bed, waiting for him.

"I can't tell if that was brilliant or brilliantly stupid," she whispered, crossing her arms. "Thanks for getting my bag, but if you had been caught, they would have killed us both. You know that."

He shrugged. "Yeah, well, I couldn't sleep," he mumbled, dropping the bag next to her. "You've got your medicines back, and whatever else you've got in there."

There was a soft pause as she pulled the bag into her lap and reached inside, seemingly to make an inventory of the contents. She nodded her satisfaction that everything was correct.

"Good," she whispered. "It's all there. Should we stay the night or head off?"

Jayce sighed. "Stay. I'm exhausted. If I don't sleep, I'm gonna pass out on my feet."

"And if they start pounding on doors in the morning?"

"Then you hide and I bullshit his ears off." Jayce sat hard on his coat, stretched out over the floor, and laid back down across it. "Ain't sure you noticed, but I'm a fair hand at it."

Dahlia huffed, pulled her hood back up over her ears, and curled back up into the bedroll.

The sense of calm in the quiet was enough to help Jayce drift off to sleep, a welcome change to the recent adrenaline inducing temptations of fate. This sleep was deep and dreamless, and over far too quickly.

Jayce startled awake to the sound of a heavy fist pounding on the door. A familiar, angry voice roared "Open the fuckin' door!" as Jayce scrambled to his feet.

Dahlia was already awake, and pulling herself under the bed in a panic. Hoping it would be enough, Jayce pulled the bedroll off the bed and threw it over her, stuffing it in as much as he could to block her from view. The pounding at the door threatened to break through its hinges as Jayce whirled around the room, desperately searching for an idea. He mussed up his hair, kicked off his boots, and pulled his tunic out of his belt, before taking one last look around the room and yanking the quilt half off the bed, further obscuring Dahlia from view.

"I said, open the fuckin'-!"

Jayce slowly creaked open the door, putting on a face of being hungover and exhausted. His heart was pounding, but he fought with every inch of his will to simply look annoyed.

"The fuck do you want so early?" he yawned.

Malcolm, towering over him in a red faced rage, punched his fist into the door, nearly knocking Jayce over when it slammed into his shoulder. "A lady went missin' last night. I'm lookin' to find her."

If he wasn't fully awake before, the sharp pain in his shoulder fixed that. Jayce rubbed his shoulder and glared at Malcolm. "What lady? I've been in my room all night! How the hell am I supposed to help you?"

And why the hell should I? He thought to himself.

Malcolm made no secret of scanning the room around Jayce, stepping into the doorway. It took almost everything Jayce had not to step closer to the bed, as he was afraid that would tip the man off.

"She's blind, helpless, and you better fuckin' pray in one piece. I heard some bloke in a black coat helped her to her room last night. Was that you?"

Jayce crossed his arms and pretended to think deeply. "Yeah, I remember her. I helped her to her room, and you havin' a screamin' fit at her last night was easy enough to hear through the wall. Made it fuckin' hard to sleep. And, thinkin' on it, I ain't surprised she ran off. Wherever she is, I hope it's in better company."

"You watch your fuckin' mouth, asshole." Malcolm jabbed a finger into Jayce's chest to emphasise his point. "She's ours, and she's fuckin' lucky to have us."

"Great. Thank you. Now get the fuck out of my room. I'm hungover as hell and I ain't seen your woman."

Malcolm gave him another hard, intense glare, before shoving him back a step, just for the hell of it, and stomping out of the room. Jayce closed the door behind him and leaned his back against it, breathing a sigh of relief.

"You weren't kidding." Dahlia's voice was barely heard under the many layers of cloth stuffed against her under the bed. "You are good at lying."

The assault against another door down the hall was easy enough to hear as Jayce pushed himself off his own door. "Most of that wasn't lying. That's the trick; Hide a lie in a mountain of truths, and it ain't easy to figure the lie."

"Needle in a haystack?"

Jayce shrugged and pulled the quilt back onto the bed and grabbed the bedroll. "Sounds appropriate. You okay?"

Dahlia pulled herself out from under the bed and slowly made her way up to her feet. "I'm fine. It sounded like he hit you though. Are you okay?"

"Eh, he got my shoulder with the door. I'm fine." Even so, it still stung, and Jayce rubbed it, wondering if it would bruise later.

"That's twice you've gotten hurt at my expense."

Jayce shrugged. "If you want to be technical, ya only hit me once."

Dahlia sighed and patted her hand around for the bedroll. "I still feel awful about it. My companions-"

"Former," Jayce reminded her.

She nodded in response. "Former companions were responsible for a restless night and morning anxiety. I'm in your debt."

Jayce laughed and grabbed his boots. "Just keep me alive on the road, and I'll consider it even." He sat on the chair and started pulling them back on, and the sunlight fell across his face. He paused for a moment, looking toward the window, noting the blue sky outside, and closed his eyes. He actually could feel the warmth of the sunlight across his skin.

"Right?"

Jayce snapped back to reality and laughed awkwardly. "My apologies, ma'am. I, uh, got lost in thought."

If Dahlia could roll her eyes, Jayce imagined she would have at that moment. "I asked if it was simply a matter of following you around like a lost pet."

Jayce finally yanked on his boots and started lacing them up. "Absolutely! The lost leading the blind, in a literal sense."

"Oh this is going to be fun…" she snickered, picking up the bedroll by the bed and beginning to roll it back up.

"Good fun or bad fun?" Jayce put the finishing touches on the knots and tucked the spare laces into the cuffs by his knees. Next order of business, resetting his untucked shirt.

Dahlia brushed her foot across the floor by the bed, likely looking for Jayce's knapsack. He watched her curiously, marveling at how she moved around the room without sight. Her movements were careful and measured, and when the tip of her foot nudged his bag, he was amazed at the control required to explore the world so physically without putting oneself in danger of physical harm.

"Interesting fun, at the very least," she smiled, picking up the knapsack and slipping the bedroll inside. "Your humor is already a refreshing change from prior company. Are you literally lost though?"

"Indeed I am." Jayce stretched upward and relaxed, rolling his shoulders to make sure his tunic was fitted correctly. Of course, years of lifting crates, pulling heavy ropes, and wrestling with anchors and sails took its toll on him, and his shoulder blades popped several times as his shoulders rolled backward.

Dahlia stiffened. "What was that?"

"What was what?" He grabbed his coat and listened, going tense. Was Malcolm and the others trying to sneak up on them?

"That popping sound! It was...ugh, fleshy and thick. What happened?"

It took Jayce a moment to connect her description to the culprit. "Oh! That. Just rollin' my shoulders, ma'am."

Dahlia visibly shuddered. "Rolling your shoulders should not sound like that! What happened to you?!"

"Uh, it's been like this since… I can remember?" Jayce shrugged, out of habit. "Just never really paid attention to it before."

Dahlia's jaw went tight and she slowly nodded. "Uh-huh. As I said, your shoulders should not sound like that. I'd offer to help, but I'm concerned Malcolm and the others are still downstairs, which would make leaving the inn somewhat difficult, and I'd like to put some distance between them and us before I take any time to relax."

"Fixin' my shoulders would help you relax?" Jayce laughed quietly. "Are all doctors that obsessed with work?"

"Just knowing your back is that messed up is tightening my own shoulders up in knots. I won't be able to sleep just thinking about it."

Jayce continued to laugh to himself and shrugged on his coat, then paused. An idea struck him so suddenly he was unable to think of anything else. That spell he had acquired, Mask of Many Faces, could make him look like anyone, as long as they were about his size. Dahlia was just an inch shorter than him, and so if she wore his coat, which included a hood, and he used his magic to look like her, he could race off and give the men the impression she had escaped. Hopefully, in a direction Jayce and Dahlia weren't planning on travelling.

"Jayce? Are you still there? You stopped breathing."

A smile crawled over Jayce's face as he began working through the more elaborate facets of the plan. This could work.

"I'm here. I just had an idea that should get those men off your back for a good while to come."

Dahlia sighed and reached out to tap his arm. Having established his location, she went back to looking for her own bag, which was still under the bed.

"Will it be just as rash and improvised as your plan last night?"

Jayce pulled his coat back off and tossed it over her back, causing her to panic and wrestle it off like it was a living thing. He only then remembered how she didn't like people creeping up on her, as his newly healed side could attest to.

"That was my coat, and if you wear it downstairs, people, at a glance, might think you're me."

Dahlia bit her lip in frustration and bent down to pick up the coat. "That's all well and good, but they won't be giving me just a glance if they're looking for me."

Jayce smirked and crossed his arms. "They will if they see you runnin' out the door."

Even behind the blindfold, Jayce could see her face screw up in confusion. "But… I'll be walking down the stairs in your coat, right?"

"Yep. As you run out the door."

"Okay, back up." Dahlia nearly touched her face, but instead gestured in frustration as she had before. "How can I be walking down the stairs and running out the door at the same time?"

"Because," Jayce smiled, tapping a hand to his chest, "unlike you, most people rely on sight, and I recently acquired a spell that allows me to look like anyone I've seen. Disguised as you, I'll make a run for it, and you can take your time walking out of the inn."

Dahlia turned toward him, holding the coat to her chest. "That's why Gren thought you were Malcolm last night…!"

Jayce could see the pieces falling into place as she looked at him. "Exactly. And, because I can actually see, I'll be able to give them a run for their money around town."

"And if you get caught, you'll get beaten to a bloody pulp, if they don't outright kill you."

He knew she couldn't see him, but he couldn't help it. He winked as he said, "Good thing I know a healer."

She huffed and bounced the coat in her hands until she found the shoulders, then pulled it on. With all of her gear underneath it, it was more of a blocky shape than Jayce normally cut, but it would be convincing at a distance. Especially when she pulled up the hood.

"Perfect. I'll make a run for it downstairs. I've only got an hour on the spell, so it shouldn't take me too long."

"And where will I meet you?"

Jayce was about to say "Just look for the first inn with a green sign" then caught himself. His normal ideas of finding a place to meet didn't work for someone like Dahlia.

He must have hemmed and hawed too long, as Dahlia was the one who spoke up.

"Listen for the first place you pass that has music. I'll be there."

Jayce slapped a hand to his face. Of course. It wasn't uncommon for inns to have a local bard busking for coin nearby.

"Great idea. I'll just listen for music and I'll come find you that way."

Dahlia nodded. "Then we have a plan. It would be quite tragic if I lost a companion the same day I agreed to travel with him."

"I thought you offered last night-"

Dahlia back handed his arm, lightly, as Jayce laughed and recoiled from the friendly blow.

"Stop correcting me, you jerk! I'm trying to make a point!"

"Yes ma'am!"

Jayce regained his composure and steadied himself. He quickly went over everything he knew about Dahlia. How she held herself, the words she used, her accent. Confident he knew enough for a passing glance, he was about to show off and then realized his hidden talent may not be taken as entertainment for someone who relied on sound alone.

"Dahlia, don't panic."

He watched her shoulders tense. "And now I want to. What now?"

In her voice, or his closest attempt, he replied, "I can mimic voices."

Dahlia nearly jumped in surprise. "That...sounded almost exactly like me! How did you do that?"

Jayce shrugged, then mentally groaned as he remembered how useless of a gesture that was around her. "When you're stuck on a ship with nothin' t' do over months at a time, ya get creative," he replied, back in his own voice.

"I can only imagine…"

Jayce grabbed his own gear as Dahlia pulled the hood of his coat up over her own. "Now, I'm gonna head out first, and make a run for it. You count t' twenty, and come down after. I'm gonna raise hell, so no one should look at ya twice."

She nodded gravely, her lips tight with anxiety, and Jayce was briefly glad she couldn't see his own nervousness.

Jayce did a final check of his armor and gear, steadied himself, and tapped a hand to his chest to activate the spell. A nearly perfect facsimile of Dahlia now stood in his place, but it was merely an illusion, and Jayce had only an hour before it faded.

"I'll see you in an hour, Dahlia. I'll follow the music," he said, nodding to her. She grunted a response, gripping the strap of her medicine bag under the coat, and he stepped into the hallway.

After a quick glance, he confirmed the hallway was empty and raced to the stairs, knowing he didn't have enough time to stumble his way along like Dahlia must do on a daily basis. Another quick check, the thin stairwell was confirmed clear, and he jogged his way down. Malcolm must have finished harassing the tenants upstairs and was likely bitching to his brother and companion over an early morning beer or some other rotgut of choice.

The assault on his ears was obvious enough that Jayce wondered if Dahlia could hear it from upstairs. Sure enough, Malcolm and his cronies were at the bar, loudly complaining to anyone who would listen about their "bitch" of a healer woman, adding in several other rather crass names whenever inspiration struck them. Malcolm's temper was evident from his constant striking of the bar and spittle flying from his face. Both his men were whipped up into a similar frenzy as they emulated his mannerisms.

Stupidly, Jayce had forgotten to keep count of the promised twenty seconds...or was it thirty? Whatever the count was, he was running out of time, and he needed to make sure all eyes were on him to give Dahlia the best chance to escape.

With a flash of inspiration, Jayce dashed from the base of the stairwell and intentionally crashed into a chair with his hip, sending it clattering loudly to the floor. A nearby patron added to the commotion with a cry of alarm, directly gaining the attention of Malcolm and his men.

"There she is!" the big man roared, jumping up from his seat, toppling it in the process. "Get her!"

As Jayce could actually see, he flipped them the middle finger with both hands before screaming, as close to Dahlia's voice as he could, "Go to hell!" and dashing toward the door with all the speed he could spare. While there were a good number of patrons in the middle of their morning meal, the room was still clogged with unset chairs and large tables, making getting through them a maze in it's own.

Another errant chair caught his foot as he made a last mad dash for the door, just barely a yard away, but he managed to catch himself and keep running. Malcolm, Sylas, and Gren were upsetting tables and chairs left and right as they fought to gain ground, but their method was causing the seated patrons to strike back, covering them in mugs of beer and handfuls of scrambled breakfast hash. Jayce made it outside and skidded to a stop in the center of the dirt road, briefly listening for music.

A crash behind him jolted him into action; he picked left at random and ran as fast as his feet could carry him. Jayce ducked left and right, dodging men, women, and horses as the streets were alive with commuters heading to work or market, and was glad there was enough of a crowd to potentially lose his pursuers. He chanced a look over his shoulder, easily spotting the three thugs in dark armor among the crowd, and his footing disappeared from under him as something collided with his knees.

Jayce fell to the ground and twisted to land on his shoulder, tucking his head and rolling forward to return to his feet. A small child started wailing behind him, and an older, wrinkled woman began screaming bloody murder and accosting him with a leather bag. Completely forgetting his was in disguise, Jayce made a motion of tipping a hat, offered a quick but heart-felt apology for tripping over her grandson, and dashed down a side street to his left once more.

He ducked behind a corner and slammed his back against it, gasping for air as his sides burned from the exertion. Were the men still following him? He couldn't hear them. He could barely hear anyone while this close to a market street. A stack of boxes behind a nearby stall was close enough for him to hide, but he may need to keep running if the men decide to head back to the Road's Respite.

Or...it may be worth burning another spell if he could provide a "witness" to Dahlia's supposed flight from her former companions. He chanced a look back around the corner to see if the men had reached that part of the runaround.

Gren immediately popped into view, looking back over his shoulder and yelling, "This's the one!" before bounding down the side street toward him. Jayce ducked back, dropping the spell and tapping his hand to his chest to give him a new face, the first one he could think of on the fly. A plain young human man, brown hair and eyes, with a dusty, weathered look to him, and he deliberately stepped into Gren's path.

Gren slammed into Jayce, who lost his footing and landed with a thud on the street on his back. "Get out of my way, you bastard!" Gren yelled, solidly landing a kick into Jayce's ribs.

"Fuck!" Jayce gripped his side, barely remembering to use a different voice in time. "You and that fucking blind woman! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Gren was about to slam his heel into Jayce's face when Malcolm arrived, easily yanking Gren away from the "human" man on the ground. "The fuck you say?" the large man hissed, his large hand on Gren's shoulder making the smaller man look like a teenager in comparison.

Jayce struggled to his feet, making a big show of being in pain and bruised. "What...the hell...is wrong with you!" Jayce spat at their feet, showing no fear. If he faltered in any way, the spell would fail, so he thought of all the grievances, threats, and annoyances they had caused in just a single day and let the rage of his feral side rise in him. He would not back down.

Gren winced and tried to back up, but Malcolm held him fast.

"You said 'blind woman', fucker," Malcolm said, squeezing Gren's shoulder enough that the man was starting to buckle under his hand. "Tell us where she went, or I'll break every rib you've got left."

Jayce was aware that wasn't an idle threat, but it barely registered in his mind. He pointed to the thickest part of the crowd and shouted, "She ran that way, assholes! Said something about a temple. Now get the hell away from me!"

Malcolm shoved past him, throwing him into a nearby fruit stand, which sent a crate of apples crashing into the street. By the time he managed to pull himself up to his feet, the three men were long gone, lost in the crowds of the morning market. As a bonus, Jayce was even able to slip an apple into his pocket, beneath the disguise spell, and hurriedly made his way back to the side street to enjoy a hard earned breakfast.

His heart was still pounding as he briskly walked through the side street to the main road he had come from. The buildings on either side were close enough to cloak the road in shadow from the morning sun, and now that he had the time to notice, he could see his breath on the air. Another crisp morning.

A wave of elation washed over him. Was it the adrenaline from facing off with Malcolm? The relief from finally losing those creeps? The joy of knowing he saved a young woman from mortal harm?

He liked the idea of being a hero in an epic tale, like the books he used to read. With a smile across his lips, he bit into the apple, and immediately choked, fighting against the punch of bitterly sour fruit to swallow. An appropriately timed reminder of hubris.

"Not a scrap wasted," he mumbled to himself, wincing against the flavor and grimacing as he took another bite. Time to find a blind doctor and tell her the new.

If anyone says with confidence that roads are flat, the truth is they're flat out wrong.

In a single step, Dahlia could find small inclines in the road, lumps in the pressed earth, errant pebbles that were rattled loose by passing carts. Cracks from repeated freezing and thawing last winter and only barely now healed by the rains since were especially jarring, as she constantly wondered if such things belied unstable ground beneath her. Through all this, she always, always, searched for the edge. Everything had an edge. A step up was encouraging, as it was an edge she could feel. A step down was terrifying, as it was an edge she could miss.

Dahlia tapped her hand against the wall next to her. Still there. Of course it was still there. Walls don't move. Usually. Her mind raced to stories about mazes of madness, walls shifting to trap victims inside, forever running toward a moving exit until they died of exhaustion or insanity.

She tapped the wall. Still there.

Voices clambered around her. Questions about prices, directions, specials. Comments about weather, food, families. Complaints about taxes, nobility, luck. Broken snippets of song carried by the drunk and careless, hawkers and vendors screaming for attention, the whistle of the wind through signs and placards, hissing through gritty chains that held supposedly beautiful facades in place.

She took in a deep breath, steadied herself, and began to listen.

It took a moment to hear past the low, dull thrum of her heartbeat, but the world began to take shape. A cacophony of noise became individual voices, the creaking of carts and the clomping of horses' hooves, even the soft, slow whistle of a morning autumn breeze. The noises had a shape. The horses were the loudest, and they traveled in straight lines...more or less. That was the street, and its directions. The most consistent voices were the dedicated conversations, not the passing comments or the vendors vying for a passerby's attention. Those people stood still, talking over product or a quick meal. That told her the edges. The safe places to walk would be passing close to them.

Dahlia took another breath, and slowly let it out. She knew from experience just holding her breath would make her heartbeat seem louder. Music. She needed to find music. That man would meet her there.

Jayce. Why was he so kind to her? There had to be a reason. She didn't even know his full name.

Of course, he didn't know her real one. Perhaps it was fair if she didn't ask.

A scent wafted by, distracting her. Salt. Salt is the second perceptible component of sweat, after the ammonia supposedly created by creatures living on the skin. She had never seen the experiment herself, but she had read that a particularly brilliant doctor had proved creatures live on the epidermis of all beings by rubbing his arm unto a dish of rendered pig gelatin, and grooves were found the next morning. It was still being hotly debated when she left the school.

Good god of the dawn, that was decades ago. Almost four now. As an elf, her life would be quite long, but her past still felt like a burden she could not cast off. Every year would add weight to her shoulders, and she had several centuries of life left.

Perhaps this journey would finally, actually kill her, but she was sure her god had other plans. Three times now, death had nearly claimed her, and each time, she felt a will beyond her own make her claw her way back to life.

She tapped the wall. Still there.

She tapped the wall again. She would need to push off of it and find music. Somewhere in this town, there had to be music. Salt. That smell again.

Dahlia breathed, this time through her nose, trying to find the source of the strange salt smell. It was close. Impossibly close. In front of her face. She tried to bat it away and it got stronger. Her sleeve.

Jayce's coat. She was wearing Jayce's coat.

Dahlia held the cuff of the sleeve to her face and breathed deep, opening herself to its story. Salt, brine, pitch, hemp. He mentioned he was a sailor. Apple, jerky, yeast. Traveling rations. Smoke, clay, rust. A recent campfire, one of several most likely, dirt, and whatever remained of some creature that had erroneously assumed Jayce would be an easy target while traveling alone.

The tingle that assaulted the back of her throat was unmistakable, even through the plethora of scents she had already caught. Magic. Bad magic. She knew the smell of wizard magic, clerical magic, druidic magic… This was the magic she had smelled back home. Demonic magic.

Such a distant memory, back in a time when she didn't have to rely on her nose so much, but these were the things her mind held on to even after the passing of years.

She shook her head in a vain attempt to clear it. But Jayce had been so kind! He must want something from her. She'll have to be on her guard around him. There was a hidden blade in her medicine pouch, one in her boot, and one in the back of her belt. Would that be enough? If he did betray her, she couldn't afford to miss. He would have to be close.

Did he know who she was?

Her ribs twitched painfully, her heart skipping beats as she fought to breathe. She convinced herself she would be okay. There was only one man this time. If she was betrayed, she could take one man.

Music. Find the music.

She tapped the wall. Still there.

She pushed the wall away.

A horse whinnied to her right, followed by the creaking of a wooden cart. She shifted left and kept walking.

"Did you hear if it will rain tonight?"

"You would know better. I thought your sister was a druid."

"Nah, she just thinks she is."

Two men talking. The sound echoed slightly. They were next to a wall. She shifted slightly right to avoid them and walked on.

"Mary-" Thwap. "Mary-" Thwap. "Quite-" Thwap. "Contrary-" Thwap. "How does-" Thwap. "Your garden-" Thwap. "Grow?"

Children playing skipping rope. The road to her left must be empty. The echo was strong. It must also be narrow. Was that music? No, just a nursery rhyme.

She needed to find an instrument.

Perfumes wafted by her. Flowers, lavender and honeysuckle. Daisies. Lily of the valley was particularly strong today. A flower vendor. She shifted a hand in front of her hip and managed to catch the corner of the flower box. She traced the edge with a finger as she walked past.

"Flowers today, sir-? Oh! Miss! So sorry!"

The woman was apologetic, but Dahlia moved on. Jayce's coat must have been a better disguise than she originally gave it credit. Her shoulders dropped slightly as she began to relax. She ignored the woman's additional comments.

She heard a dry, hacking cough ahead of her. The smell of burnt pipe weed was carried on the wind. Smoker's lung. The man sounded quite old. He would probably suffocate in his sleep pretty soon.

Dahlia had to pull back both hoods. She could barely hear around her with so much cloth covering them. The second her ears were free, she could hear the sounds behind her just as clearly as the ones before her, and those she faced were that much more clear. She paused walking just long enough to listen again. Not just for a rhyme, but an instrument.

There! Whistling, like birdsong, but long and reverberating, with a dull thump to accentuate phrases in the music. Shepherd's pipe! A simple, but effective type of flute. Easy enough to carve if one would find a hollow stick or stalk of some kind. She wanted to run straight for it, but she stopped herself. Edges. Find the edges, then move forward.

Her thoughts drifted to her former companions. Where were they now? Were they close? Did Jayce manage to send them far enough to give her time to escape?

Would they be okay?

Of the three of them, she missed Sylas. The young man was barely seventeen. He was innocent, impressionable, and quickly rotting from his brother's influence...but occasionally he'd take her arm, he'd describe what he could see. He would actually help her. Then Malcolm would become impatient and simply drag her along. Her feet would stumble under her and she'd lose the edges.

Gren once tried to proposition her, and the other two laughed, calling him so ugly only a blind woman would sleep with him. She refused, and that made them laugh harder. Rather than take it out on Dahlia, Gren tried to sucker punch Sylas, which sent Malcolm into a murderous rage. Only Malcolm was allowed to strike his younger brother.

Ground rules were laid, but constantly broken. Gren especially was fond of being in charge of leading her about, as it was a chance to sneak a handful of her rear end or stroke her hips when she had no way to escape. Malcolm demanded special treatment whenever they were wounded. Sylas tried to be like his brother.

How much would change with this new man? Would he also take advantage of her need to touch to see?

But then...he was so nervous when she asked to hold his hand. Dahlia could hear him suck the breath through his teeth. He was quite quick to mention he wasn't even interested in physical favors, which he clearly assumed meant the sexual kind.

A thought struck her. Was he gay? That would explain the hesitation. That would be safer for her. But there was still the demon magic. Could she really trust someone who used that kind of magic, gave their soul for that kind of power?

The music was louder now. She could nearly hear the shape of the window where the music had escaped to the street. Several windows. Voices. The clatter of wooden plates and metal mugs against tables. The smell of...food. Warm food. Spices, eggs, tomatoes, parsnips, herbs. Bread!

Her stomach grumbled and screwed up tightly, and she gripped her coat as her unintentional fast became all the more obvious. She hadn't eaten since breakfast a full day before. Malcolm had claimed they didn't have the food to spare, but she could smell the jerky they had been eating while on the road. They often forgot that she could do more than just hear them.

She dug in her medicine bag for any coins she might have left. Even a few copper pieces should get her something to eat. Maybe she could trade some dried herbs for a meal.

Blessed mercy, her hand curled around several small coins. By their weight and edge, she could tell they were copper. Four copper. That should be enough.

She offered a prayer of thanks to the Dawnfather, clenched the coins in her fist, and held out her free hand for the door. She tapped the wall and followed it along. Her fingers brushed over a window frame. She traced the sill until she found the far edge. She was back to the wall. Another step, and a wooden barrier bumped her fingertips. A short reach downward and it went past where the previous windowsill had been. A doorway. It was even open.

Now, to step inside.

Immediately past the door frame, the voices were suffocating. There were far too many to discern individual conversations. She took a breath and switched her focus. She listened to the sound as a whole, a swell of noise, with an ebb and flow. It filled the room, bounced off the walls, slipped between patrons and light fixtures. It wasn't perfect, but in less than a minute, she had a clear idea of the size and layout of the room.

Whoever was playing the shepherd's pipe was near one of the windows, surrounded by a small crowd of patrons clapping along to the tune. Dahlia made slow, careful movements toward a quiet spot near the music, where less sound seemed to be originating. Hopefully it was an empty table and not a quiet customer just enjoying a meal.

With her free hand out in front of her, Dahlia spread her fingers and began feeling around for a table or a chair. She clenched her jaw, hoping she wouldn't end up accidently touching a stranger in this loud, thrumming place. Her hand brushed along the top edge of a chair, and she gripped it thankfully. It moved easily, so it was apparent no one was sitting in it.

"Oi. That's taken."

Dahlia resisted the urge to tighten her lips and look as annoyed as she felt. The gruff, hoarse voice seemed intent on irritating her as much as possible before getting her to move on to someone else's territory.

"My apologies, sir," Dahlia said, still not letting go of the chair. "I am blind, so I wasn't sure if someone was sitting here. However, for future reference, I would appreciate a more expedient warning to avoid a waste of time on both your part and mine."

After all, she had been searching that area for a chair for over a minute. He had plenty of time to tell her to move on.

"The fuck you talkin' about?" the voice spat, and Dahlia noticed his pitch had both risen in height and had gotten tense. He sounded like he was itching for a fight. She would have to simplify her tactics… and use a trick she learned from the bastard who stabbed her.

"I meant nothing by it!" Dahlia let go of the chair and held her hand in front of her and her fist to her heart to show they were non threatening. "Your time is valuable and I didn't want to take any of it! The walls are short here, aren't they? The ceiling looks like it's upside down! Is that a unicorn?"

The origin of the man's voice twisted and spun as the man stammered the start of several replies before finally coming to a conclusion. "You're fuckin' nuts."

"I am blind." Dahlia smiled. She hated doing this, but confusion beat out aggression every time.

The man did not respond, but she heard a clatter of dishes and the slosh of a mug, as well as his chair scrape the floor, even over the din of the room. The man had picked up his meal and moved on. She couldn't have hoped for a better result and grabbed for the chair she had originally found.

The music stopped.

Dahlia's heart leapt to her throat. The music couldn't be over already! Jayce wasn't here yet! She had just got here! She needed to breathe. It would be impossible to think clearly if she didn't breathe. She had seen the lunacy that victims of breath deprivation had gotten up to if a collapsed lung wasn't treated in time.

She breathed deeply, in through her nose. Spices, potatoes, more of that bread. Eggs, tomatoes, sage, rosemary, sweat, filth, beer, leather, metal, oak. Cinnamon. She liked that one. She held on to the cinnamon. She let out the breath through her lips, slow and deliberate. She could hear her heart rate start to calm.

Dahlia listened. The man with the shepherd's pipe was talking. She could hear the whistle of his words past the mouthpiece of the instrument. He was speaking with the instrument close to his face. Was he about to play another song?

"Good sir, if I was truly 'playing a stick', I'd have to rap it across your skull for anyone to hear me."

The small crowd around the flutist laughed at the expense of the previous speaker, and the flutist continued.

"This, my friends, is my bread and butter, my soul, my companion! You ask how I can play her so well? Simply because I've had a lot of practice on your women!"

There were more snickers and some offended comments, but Dahlia ignored them. The flutist didn't seem interested in continuing to play, instead garnering laughs from the crowd at their own expense. Dahlia resisted the urge to bite her lip. She didn't know the name of the tavern she currently occupied, and even if she did, there would be no way to let Jayce know. The only clue he had to her location was the music the flutist was no longer providing.

Was it worth leaving to find a new place to wait? She had already embarrassed herself just for a chair, and had her heart set on a meal. Four coppers worth of a meal, anyway. So she shifted in her seat to face the crowd around the musician.

"Excuse me?" she called, trying to be heard over the din of their laughter. "Sir? With the shepherd's pipe?"

"I don't do requests, miss. Now leave me be, I'm resting!" was the rather short reply.

"Sir, please, I was enjoying your music. Could you play more?"

"Do I look like I'm ready to start playing?" Dahlia smirked as the musician huffed. "I need to rest my throat so I can play my best!"

"Sir, you don't look like anything."

The crowd started to laugh while the bard sputtered and made offended noises without ever articulating a word. Dahlia pointed a finger at her blindfold and waited for the crowd to come to their senses.

There was a pause as the crowd all seemed to lose their voice.

Then the musician said, "Oh."

"As you can see," Dahlia said, trying her very hardest not to smirk at their expense, "I cannot. Your music was absolutely lovely and even drew me in from the street. May I ask you to continue? I'm waiting for a friend and told him to follow the music, which today I'm happy to say is yours."

She imagined the man tilting his head this way and that as he mulled over the idea. "I'd be willing to, miss, for compensation. A tip, if you will."

Dahlia's stomach grumbled, unheard in the loud tavern but very definitely felt by her. "Would...a copper be enough?" she asked.

The man snorted, and Dahlia assumed he crossed his arms. "My music is worth more than a gippy."

"Of course. I understand. I don't have much to spare. It's hard to find work when you're blind." Dahlia sighed and rolled the coins in her fist.

Dahlia sincerely hoped the man would have a heart. "Would...three be enough?"

"Four, and not a gippy less."

Dahlia opened her hand and tapped at the four coppers she had been clenching since she stepped inside. They were all still there. Reluctantly, she held them out toward the musician, hoping she wouldn't have to put the coins directly in his hand.

She heard several of them shift and felt a hand close around the coins in her palm.

"Yep. That's four. Alright, miss. I'll keep playing."

Dahlia could easily pick out some complaints about squeezing a beggar for everything she had, and she could relate… She hated to be considered a beggar, but at the moment, it was only a single question from being true.

The flute began to play a whimsical, lively tune that soon had the crowd, and other patrons closer to the bar, clapping along and laughing to the song. Dahlia pulled herself close to the table and leaned back in the chair, listening along. She tried to think of anything besides the growing grumbling in her stomach. She had been hungry before. If she stayed distracted, she could push through this.

She allowed herself to relax and get lost in the music. Distant, faded memories of colors danced in her mind, and she tried desperately to hold on to them as they slipped away. Over thirty years of this darkness, learning to move around the world without her eyes...all too soon after she learned what color truly was.

Time slipped away from her, and true to his word, the musician hardly stopped playing for more than a few moments to catch his breath or sip his drink of choice. Her stomach grumbled painfully, jolting her from the daydream. The color faded away, and she sighed, wondering how much time had passed.

Someone knocked on her table.

At first, she didn't know how to respond. A knock? Why not just call out to her? "Hello?" she asked, listening for who might have been the source of the knock.

"Sorry t' startle you," a familiar voice said, and she heard him slide into a chair next to her. "It's a bit hard to tell if you've nodded off with the blindfold on."

"Jayce! You made it!" The relief was palpable, and she suddenly noticed how tight her jaw had been for far too long. "I'll admit, I was concerned you wouldn't hear the flutist, especially when he decided to take an extended break, not long after I sat down."

She could hear his smile as he spoke. "Well, lucky me, he's tweetin' like a bird on a fuckin' early spring morning. I could hear him almost from the Road's Respite!" He laughed.

"Speaking of, where are we?" Dahlia began to pull off Jayce's jacket as she spoke. "I didn't get a chance to ask anyone, and no one has stopped by to ask for any sort of food or drink order."

"Yeah, ya ain't likely to get that kind of service in this place," Jayce said, and his voice was briefly more difficult to hear as he likely turned his head to take in the tavern. "Only man workin' is the barkeeper himself. Probably got a cook in the back, but ya gotta order at the bar. Oh, and this's Old Man Oak. Probably somethin' to do with the large oak tree carved on the door."

That...was nice. It was a detail she completely missed, and admittedly unnecessary information, but it was a detail that helped her build a map of this world she couldn't see. Her opinion of the barkeep immediately changed from a gruff, angry man to some starry eyed middle aged man, proud of his heritage. Of course, she had no idea if any of it was true, but she liked to dream.

"There's an oak tree carved on the door?"

She heard that smile again. "Oh yeah. Massive thing. Door's probably a solid piece o' wood. Had at least a hundred branches, but mind you, I didn't stop t' count. Thought it was funny how the door was propped open 'til I noticed it was damn stuffy in here."

"I actually haven't noticed that at all," Dahlia said, finally handing over the coat. His hand brushed hers before she felt the coat tug out of her grip. Was that intentional? It was good to know he was about to grab the coat, rather than wonder if the coat was being yanked into the ether. Did he know someone who was blind?

Jayce was about to respond when her stomach gurgled again, loud enough to be heard over the general din of the tavern. She knew that If she wasn't currently wearing a layer of grease paint, she would be blushing hard enough for him to notice.

There was a short pause before Jayce broke the awkward relative silence. "I suppose ya haven't ordered food yet… Right, ya didn't know to order at the bar. I'll go do that for ya."

"Wait!" Dahlia grabbed out and managed to just barely find the cloth of his sleeve. "I can't pay you. I have literally nothing left. Malcolm never gave me my last share."

His hand was gentle as he lifted her fingers from his sleeve. "It's fine, ma'am. I ain't got much, but it'll be enough for a good breakfast. All I ask is ya come along for a job or two t' get some savings goin', for the road."

Dahlia nodded, feeling conflicted, but relieved. "That's...more than fair. Thank you."

"I'll be right back," Jayce said, and Dahlia heard the chair scrape the floor as he got up and walked away. If she listened hard enough, she could almost hear the flow of sound bend and swirl around him as he moved to the other end of the room. The flutist must have noticed them talking, because the music had stopped, and the jeering comments at his audience's expense resumed.

What even was Jayce? Human? Or perhaps part human? He was tall enough to rule out a dwarf, halfling, or gnome, but that still left a plethora of common races. And she was pretty sure he was one of the common races, as his hands had no fur or strange bones. She had noticed his nails were pretty thick, but that could have been related to the calluses he had on the pads of his hands. As rough as his hands were, he was very gentle, so that ruled out half-orc; her experience of that particular facet of humanoid was hardly a shining example of gentility. His accent was also quite rough...but then again, he had mentioned he was a sailor. Did elves even sail? Half-elves, most likely, if any type of elf was to sail, and definitely humans traveled the waters. Perhaps he was one of those.

By the time she had come to this conclusion, Jayce slid back into his seat next to her. "Food's up! Got ya the vegetable hash; didn't stop to ask if you were one of those elves who didn't eat meat."

A plate was placed in front of her, she assumed by Jayce. Already, the stronger smells of the fresh, hot food in front of her was wafting past her nose, and after a full day of nothing but questionable water, it was nearly impossible to pause just long enough to pull out her mess kit and extract the fork from its contents. Her hand was nearly shaking and her mouth was salivating from the anticipation of the meal.

"Jayce, is there nothing else on my plate? Or is it just potatoes and vegetables?"

Jayce gulped down a bite of his own and cleared his throat before he replied. "Nah, just a pile of spiced potatoes an' greens. Actually, browns an' oranges. Ain't many greens in that one."

Dahlia allowed herself a smirk as she carefully loaded the fork and brought the food to her lips. It smelled lovely, and after a quick touch of the food to her lower lip to determine it was, in fact, not too hot, she finally had a bite of warm food. She almost didn't want to chew as the flavor rolled over her tongue, but then her hunger won over and she began almost shoveling the food into her mouth. She was nearly halfway through it before she finally began to slow down.

"Shit…! You get a chance to breathe in all that?"

Dahlia pulled a small cloth out of her medicine bag and dabbed her lips, hoping not to smear the grease paint. "Sorry. I haven't eaten for a full day, and it caught up with me."

"No wonder you were actin' like you just survived a famine. You practically did." There was a pause as Jayce likely took another bite of food. "Malcolm and his goons the cause of that?"

She shrugged. "I would often stay out of any fights they got into, so they often claimed they needed the nourishment more than I did. I'm no stranger to getting by on very little, so I've learned to get used to it."

"Should'a stabbed the fuckers…" Jayce hissed under his breath. Then she heard him wince and suck air through his teeth as he shifted in his chair.

It was a guess, but probably not a bad one. "Bruise a rib again?"

She could only imagine the look of amazed confusion Jayce was likely giving her. "How the fuck did you know?" he said, sounding just as amazed and confused as she thought he was.

"The chest is the largest surface area of the body, and therefore the largest target, but not necessarily the most likely one. If someone was likely to get hurt, it would probably be along one of the extremities, but because you sounded in pain after you just shifted in your chair, it would more likely be one of your core muscles, which are in your stomach and chest."

"You really are somethin' else, Dahlia." Jayce was trying not to laugh in disbelief. "That lanky one, the one that ain't the little brother, kicked me hard in the ribs. I'd have a matchin' set if you didn't already clear up the first bruise."

Dahlia nodded. "Gren. I'll assume you were on the ground, as Gren wouldn't be able to kick that high if his life depended on it."

Jayce mumbled an affirmative and swallowed the food he thought he had time to eat. "Bowled me over, actually. Then kicked my ribs."

"So what happened when you left the room?" Dahlia said, more slowly taking bites now that she could take a second to learn the dimensions of the plate.

"Oh, nothin' fancy. Found'em at the bar, talkin' shit about you, so I 'tripped' over a chair, got their attention, threw 'im an insult I know they could see, and bolted out the door. The three of 'em probably tossed half the place, tryin' to get t' me, then chased me like a fuckin' bull followin' the man who insulted his wife. Managed to throw 'em at the market square, then 'accidently' bumped into them as some random witness that had already been flattened by yourself on the way through. Sent them towards the local temple, other side of town. I hope."

Dahlia nearly choked on a chunk of potato. "You hope?"

"Ain't been to this town before."

Dahlia sighed. That was fair. He did mention he was lost. "Do you even have a map?"

Another pause as Jayce swallowed a bite of food. "Nope. That was on the list to get while I was in town."

"Where are you even headed?" She really didn't want to touch her food, but she was having trouble finding enough to make her fork noticeably heavier.

Jayced sighed and his chair creaked as he settled back into it. "Some sort of college, or a wizard who will take an apprentice. Truth is, I know fuck all about these powers I've got, and...it scares me."

Dahlia paused. Was he telling the truth? He sounded like he was. Did he even know the powers he held were demonic in nature?

"Hell, the only power I got that ain't terrifying is mimickin' voices, and I didn't even get a chance to use it during the chase." He slumped in his chair, which groaned under his weight again. "Barely got the funds to get out of this town, and the only thing I ain't scared to do is sound like a parrot."

The silence between them managed to get awkward as Dahlia rolled a couple of comments around in her thoughts before finally settling on one. "Uh, Jayce?"

"Yeah?"

"What's a parrot?"

Jayce barely suppressed a laugh and winced, again sucking air through his teeth, as the laughing agitated the new bruise. "Apologies, Dahlia. I forget some things I'm used to ain't normal around here. A parrot is a colorful bird that mimics voices, like I can."

"You're kidding! A bird that speaks like a person?"

"Swear on my word, I ain't lyin'." Dahlia imagined he had a hand on his heart and another in the air, like he was quoting an oath in court. "The powder monkey on my last ship had one. Green, bright as fresh grass, with a yellow beak and a ruby red breast, could swear better'n the old salt on board and whistle louder than the storm call. Used to quote poetry, after the cook got to it, and I taught it a couple'a jokes once. That went over real well!"

Whatever those jokes were, Jayce started laughing to himself at the memory, despite the discomfort it caused. Dahlia was incredibly curious about the whole affair.

"I can hear you laughing, Jayce. Now you have to tell me those jokes."

"Oh you ain't gonna like 'em!" Jayce laughed, no longer keeping it to himself. "They're all groaners. Nearly got me clocked a few times!"

"Curiosity kill me, I'll consider it worth it. Jokes!"

Jayce theatrically cleared his throat and paused, as if waiting for a lull in the general tavern noise to begin his tale. Dahlia began to fidget, wondering what joke could be so terrible it nearly got a man punched in the face, and briefly considered telling Jayce to forget it.

"Settin' the scene. Tavern, like this one. Late at night, bar crowd. Rowdy bunch, but ain't a problem. The door slams open! In walks...a set of knives."

Dahlia's face screwed up in confusion. "A set of knives?!"

Jayce pressed on, completely undeterred. "The barkeep screamed, 'Out! Out! We don't serve your kind here!' Then he pauses, takes a good look, and says, 'Apologies, my good sirs. I thought you were knaves!'"

Jayce burst out laughing as Dahlia dropped her head in her hands, careful to only touch the blindfold, groaning. "That was terrible!" she said, giggling despite herself. "I'm almost afraid to ask what the other jokes were."

"Trust me, they were just as bad."

"Well, I appreciate you doing voices for the various characters in your joke." Dahlia smiled. "You have a surprising knack for stories."

There was a pause, and Dahlia assumed Jayce shrugged. "Ain't the first time I've heard that, probably won't be the last. I read a lot when I was younger, anythin' I could get my hands on. Must've rubbed off on me."

"I imagine you kept most of the people around you on their toes." She was still giggling. "Somehow, it doesn't seem like a stretch to me to imagine you swinging from ropes, pretending to be a hero from some story book."

Jayce cleared his throat awkwardly and Dahlia barely contained her laughter. "How old are you?!" she said, with giggles audible behind her words.

"Well, ya talk to my old captain, twelve." Jayce couldn't help but begin to giggle himself, remembering his adventures on the seas. "Truth is, twenties. I'm what ya call a green-foot to this whole adventuring thing." And, he mused to himself, it could be applied literally. "And, if I may ask a lady, how long 'ave you walked the world?"

"Strictly speaking, I didn't walk for the first year or so of my life, as I was only a baby," Dahlia said, imagining Jayce's face as she intentionally took his statement too literally to gently annoy him. "However, I'm also considered young, as I'm not yet two centuries old."

Jayce choked on a piece of potato and Dahlia allowed herself a secretive smile.

"Fuck! I don't claim to be an expert on your race, but two hundred years is considered young?!"

Dahlia shrugged. "It's not uncommon for those of my race to reach seven centuries or more. We're long lived, prejudice to a fault, and irritatingly difficult to change in even the smallest of habits. And before you ask, yes, I have opinions not considered popular among my kind, and that has encouraged this kind of self-imposed exile among the…" Dahlia sighed, and took the opportunity to waggle a pair fingers on either side of her face to imitate quotation marks. "...'lesser' races. Those opinions in fact even encouraged my decision to become a doctor."

The shepherd's pipe began twittering another tune as Jayce took a moment to consider the statement. "Can't say I'm a stranger to assholes who judge ya for your skin, and as you're obviously of a different ilk, I thank ya on behalf of my race."

Dahlia opened her mouth to speak, then held her tongue. Her vow crept into her mind. Do no harm and speak no lie, and Pelor, the Dawnfather, will shield her from her own race. From experience, she has learned some loopholes, such as the harm of a creature intent on her own seems to be exempt from the promise, but she knew of no such limit on any word she spoke.

"I won't lie to you, Jayce. I'm not a doctor for thanks. I'm not nice for thanks. I am who I am because I'm trying to survive, and that includes being nice and, in my case, being a doctor."

Jayce paused again, seemingly shocked by her words. "Well, uh, thank you for being candid. Are all doctors so brutally honest?"

"I can't say of them," Dahlia sighed, giving up the fork and hovering her hand across her plate to find any last bits of food. "But I will say, of myself, that I will not speak a lie. Call it a personal promise, if you will, but that is what it is. A promise."

"I have a feelin' there have been a few who have tried to take advantage of that."

Dahlia nodded. "Of course. In fact, my former companions were among that rank. What many fail to realize is that while I will not speak a lie, that does not require that I speak whenever something is asked of me."

"So…" Jayce's mug scratched the table lightly as he spun it on it's edge. "If I ask somethin' deeply personal and embarrassing, you'll just...clam up?"

"Of course. My vow is for my protection, not your amusement."

"Then...as a show of trust, I'll take the vow too. Don't know which one, but I'll answer any question ya ask me honestly, hand to god."

A smile creeped across her lips again. Her heart felt light. Hope. Somehow, this man she barely knew had given her hope. Then memories of blood and pain flooded her mind, and the hope became less the light of dawn and more the glow of a candle, struggling against the wind.

"I'll hold you to that, Jayce no-title."

"Watch it, that might catch on!"

Jayce laughed at his own joke, and Dahlia finally confirmed her plate was empty. Her stomach was happy for the food, but she still felt hungry. Whatever was next, she hoped she would have enough for a more substantial meal, and hopefully as soon as possible. She briefly mused if she could out eat a halfling with her current cravings, but quickly dismissed it. Somehow, that race had the ability to far exceed the caloric recommendations of a similar creature in size while avoiding turning into a blob of lard.

"So, before we move on, do ya actually eat meat? Or do elves in general avoid that kinda thing?"

Dahlia was amazed she was still in the habit of rolling her eyes. "The only meat I don't eat is rancid and rotten. Perhaps you're thinking of the druidic Ashari tribes, who do house a great number of elves, but also beings of other races."

"I ain't even got a clue who those are."

She shrugged and pushed away the empty plate. "They guard the gates to the four elemental planes, but that's about as much as I know."

Jayce let out a low whistle, obviously impressed. "That's quite a job."

"Indeed. I can't even imagine the elemental horrors they've held at bay, simply because it is their calling to do so." It must be different, surrounded by an entire clan who held someone's same goals and beliefs, but Dahlia could never imagine herself working that selflessly for essentially nothing.

"Speaking of holdin' horrors at bay, we should be lookin' into work, or somethin' to drum up some coin." Dahlia heard him pull out a coin pouch, but something made of glass clinked around inside. "Shit. Completely forgot that was in there."

She tilted her head curiously. "What was?"

"Just a healing potion. Bought two on the way into town, forgot to use 'em. Well, use one, actually. For the bruise you healed up." Dahlia imagined he was patting his left side, although she couldn't hear such a subtle movement in the din of the tavern. "Stuck it in my coin purse and then bumped into you, and life's been a bit quick to keep up since."

"It's a good thing you have them. My power isn't unlimited, especially since I'm so new to my magic." Dahlia flexed her hands under the table, feeling a little ashamed, even though she knew she would grow stronger with time. Even so, it was best to establish limits early, so her new companion didn't push himself beyond her ability to heal him.

"Eh? How new? I thought you were old hand at this, bein' a doctor and all."

She sighed. "I...left the doctor's college thirty-eight years ago, having graduated in all ways except ceremonially, and began to ply my trade. Unfortunately, that was about the same time I lost my sight. Four years ago, I met a man who introduced me to the teachings of Pelor, the Dawnfather, and I felt a calling. It was like finding the source of the voice that had been pushing me onward, lifting me up whenever I fell, and finally being able to assign a name. It took some time and doing, but I was eventually able to find a sympathetic ear in the church, and that priest taught me the clerical magics that make my job as a doctor that much easier."

"Wow." Jayce's chair creaked audibly as he leaned back in his chair. "You… That… Huh. So...do you remember what color looks like?"

"I'd rather ask about you. I gave you a rather intimate peek at my past, and I'd like to know yours. You said you're a sailor?"

A slight pause. Dahlia wondered if he was gesturing in some way. "Fair's fair. Grew up along the Lucidian Coast, joined a trawler when I was six. Worked as a cabin boy on random cutters and carracks until I was about twelve, then found my way to the Wraith Heart, a proper twenty gun galleon, under the care of Captain Gerrart. Under him, worked my way up from cabin boy to bosun, even takin' a stint as a powder monkey, until a storm tossed the whole thing to the black, an' I woke up on shore, nothin' left but rags for clothes and a sword in hand."

"I...You… You're sure you're speaking the common tongue, right?"

Jayce burst out laughing and Dahlia felt her cheeks flush. "Well, I'm sorry, but I have no idea what half of those words mean!" she added quickly, trying not to let herself get too flustered, and failing miserably.

"Ain't a problem!" Jayce managed to wheeze out between giggles. "Ship jargon's a language all its own. First ship I joined was a fishin' vessel, dragged a net behind it. That's a trawler. Cabin boy's a kid who does whatever the captain asks, 'cause he's small and can get into little places or clean without takin' a sailor away from his work. Uh… Bosun's like first mate, or second in command. I was in charge of the pay and splittin' up rations, but first mate takes over when the captain's out or asleep, and that ain't my job. Cutters are messenger ships, small and fast, and carracks got two main masts and a triangular rear sail, mainly used for small hauls. Galleons are the big ones, naval war types, with crews of a hundred or more." Jayce paused as he tried to think through the language of his life story. "Anythin' else?"

Without hesitation, Dahlia replied, "What's a powder monkey, what happens when you 'toss' something 'to the black', and if you woke up in rags, why does your coat smell like it's been on board a ship?"

Jayce was about to respond, but Dahlia's last question caused him to pause. "Uh, a powder monkey runs the ships cannons, 'toss to the black' means a storm sunk the ship to the depths of the sea, and...I found Captain Gerrart's coat on the shore after I woke up."

Both of them found themselves in an awkward silence, despite the general din of the tavern, and Jayce nervously cleared his throat before continuing, unprompted.

"Man was like a father t' me. I just...wanted somethin' to remember him by. Far as I know, everyone else was-" Jayce grunted, taking a moment to choose his words more carefully. "I mean, pretty sure I was the only one left alive."

"Well, it's...it's a nice coat. It was quite warm and comfortable, even over my own."

Jayce chuckled weakly. "That's kind of ya, ma'am. Just surprised ya picked up on that."

Dahlia shrugged. "It smelled like what I assume the sea smells like. Salt, pitch, hemp, that sort of thing."

"Dahlia, I've known you less than a day an' I'm already convinced you see more of the world than just about anyone I've met, my reflection included."

She shrugged. "It's not anything special. I'm just more practiced at exploring the world in a different way."

"Maybe I should walk around with a blindfold on then."

"Just-!" Dahlia nearly touched her face in frustration, but caught herself and tensely waved her hand. "Your sight is a gift. Don't squander it just because I've learned to live without it."

"My apologies, ma'am." Jayce sounded embarrassed. Dahlia started to feel guilty about snapping at him. "We should...probably head out, an' look for work."

"Right, we should. Could you take the dishes back up?"

"I got it."

Jayce handed off the plates and turned back toward his new partner. Dahlia was surprisingly hard to read, and that blindfold was probably part of it. She had promised to speak truthfully, but he only had her word on that, and what she had said was both revealing and frustratingly vague. Then there was the revelation that she was well aware of where his coat had been. It brought up some rough, and rather unpleasant memories, remembering who was wearing that coat when he learned who his captain really was, and what that man had intended for Jayce.

Which, of course, reminded him that he wasn't quite sure his captain had actually died that night. He never found a body among the washed up remains, and someone had recognized his coat barely a week later. He didn't get much out of the man, but it was implied he had seen the original owner of the coat the day before.

If Gerrart had survived… Would he even know about these powers? It was possible. After all, the sword he carried also once belonged to his captain, and seemed tied to this strange magic… and Gerrart had used it against him that fateful night, in a blind panic and sobbing apologies. If the powder hadn't caught fire…

Jayce winced as his head ached, the pain stinging as if a needle had been shoved behind his eyes. He had so many questions about that night, but that could wait. For now, he had a travelling companion who was rather reliant on his ability to see, and he didn't want to let her down.

When he returned to the table, he slid into his seat and knocked on the table again. This time, rather than turn about, Dahlia cocked her head to the side, facing him more with her ear than her actual face.

"You can just say hello, Jayce."

Jayce shrugged out of habit and pulled his bag into his lap. "Figured it was a more polite way of announcin' I was entering your space." He started taking a quick inventory of his things, noting how he still did not have a map, and that he needed to restock his rations for the road. Due to Dahlia's reaction at his offer to buy food, he felt it was safe to assume she had nothing on hand.

"You got enough to keep ya goin' until we get a coin or two?" he asked, shifting the dried foods to a side pocket of the knapsack so they'd be easier to reach in a pinch.

Dahlia sighed, but nodded. "Yes. Though I'll be happy with a full day of full meals, so I suggest we start looking for work immediately."

Jayce nodded, winced as he remembered, and responded. "Sounds good t' me. Need a hand gettin' out of this place?"

She held out her hand in response, shifting the shoulder strap to her bag, as it had never left her person. Jayce attempted to grab her arm as he had before, but she suddenly ripped her arm back and started patting over the surface of the table.

"Sorry! Sorry!" she squeaked, momentarily flustered. Her fingers closed around her fork and, after a quick wipe down with a rag from her mess kit, she reassembled the kit and slid it back into her bag. "I only have the one…"

Jayce suppressed the urge to giggle and cleared his throat. "It ain't a problem, ma'am. You already made it quite clear ya ain't a fan of touchin' things you don't need to. Now, ya gonna let me help this time, or is there anythin' else between you and me I gotta know about?"

Clearly embarrassed, but amazingly enough not blushing, Dahlia's head dipped downward as she held out one arm for Jayce and gripped her bag to her hip with the other. Still trying not to laugh audibly at her expense, Jayce briefly searched his recent memories for how she preferred to be led around, and lightly grabbed her upper arm, just above her elbow. She responded by doing the same, and it was short work to lead her out to the streets of Kymal.

Finally, the two of them had a moment to simply enjoy the crisp autumn morning in the bustling city. Jayce looked around at the gilded signs, the flashy dancers, the magical lights competing for every visitor's attention to draw them in to a plethora of stores and gambling halls that were the hallmark of this opulent town. It truly felt as if luck had brought him this far, as he was sure to find something, if not answers, somewhere between the bricks of this place.

Dahlia, however, was immune to the glitz and glam of this crowded, miserable city. Already, her ears were picking up the complaints and laments of the natives of the town, those who yearned for the days when Kymal was practically bleeding gold from the veins within the mountain just north of the city. In a dissonant harmony, other voices were screaming about the gold they had lost in the gambling halls, the cons that had relieved them of their coin, and of the whimsical luck that refused to follow the patrons from one get-rich-quick scheme to the next. Dahlia grimaced, hoping there would be enough coin left to spare for what came next, provided they could survive whatever work was asked of them.

"I wish you could see this, Dahlia," Jayce said, the awe evident in his voice. "They've got magic lightin' up the signs an' the street, makin' everything seem straight outta the stories they tell kids. Everythin' looks like it's made of gold or jewels!"

"Jayce," she sighed, trying to decide if she should allow him to dream or remind him about reality, "it's… Let's go find work. Remember, neither of us are very experienced in our power, so try not to grab something with a dragon in the fine print."

Jayce barely suppressed a snicker and began leading Dahlia down the road. "No worries there, ma'am. I'll make sure to read the whole notice, fine print an' all." A thought came to mind as he briefly considered what kind of job they should take. "Would you be against joinin' a group already at work? It'd cut our share, but less chance of dyin' an' all."

Jayce nearly winced as Dahlia gripped his arm tightly, twisting it back to fall in step just behind him. "Uh, I'll admit, the idea isn't… This isn't working. Let me put a hand on your shoulder. I'll follow behind."

Startled and confused, he gave her a moment to stand behind him, her hand on the back of his shoulder. As far as he could tell, the street was actually quite clear, both of people and small objects to trip over. "You alright?"

"This may come as a shock, Jayce, but I have deep seeded trust issues. I don't even know why I'm trusting you so much; all I know is you're a former sailor named Jayce, and you're in your twenties. With magic you don't know how to control."

"Well, we can fix that now." Jayce started to walk, keeping an eye out for a notice board or anything that would have job postings, and Dahlia fell right in step behind him. "Ask me anythin' you like. After all, promise is a promise, so I'll talk straight."

"No offence, Jayce, but I'm listening for potential problems right now. I don't really want to talk until we're seated or at the very least in a safe place."

Jayce's face screwed up in further confusion. "We're in a city. Ain't that safe?"

"A list of threats that generally only happen in large gatherings of people, such as cities: Muggings, murder, theft, fraud, confidence scams, blackmail, corruption, assault-"

"Whoa whoa whoa! Point taken!" Jayce sighed. Dahlia really was on edge. "We'll wait until we're eating, or somethin' of the like. I'll keep an eye out-"

Dahlia felt Jayce's shoulders tense up like someone had poked him with a hot needle. Despite being so far from the edges, and deeper in a crowd than she'd ever want to be on her own, she couldn't help but smile. She was just glad it was a smile he couldn't see.

"You can use idioms that include references to sight, Jayce. I won't be offended."

Jayce's shoulders slumped as he breathed a sigh of relief, then added a nervous chuckle. "Like I said earlier, ma'am, always be nice to the healers!"

"That's nice. With that in mind, please, for the love of the Dawnfather, use my given name!"

Jayce caught himself about to apologize with "Ma'am" again, as it was a habit, and instead completely butchered some mangled version of Dahlia's name and several other monikers one would normally assign to a woman, a healer, or both. Embarrassed, Jayce marched down the street, and Dahlia nearly tripped trying to keep up as she ended up coughing down laughter hard enough to almost lose her touch on Jayce's shoulder.

After what felt like a tense eternity for Jayce, he finally spotted a notice board by a tavern called "The Lucky Lady", which, despite the late morning hour, was still bustling with patrons. He was well aware of Dahlia behind him, as she was only just now recovering from her coughing fit earlier and was still shaking with mirth, so he tried to give most people near the sign a wide berth to avoid any possible collisions.

He quickly scanned the notices. Requests for a tutor, someone to fix roofs, plenty of requests for supposedly lucky items, lottery numbers, and so on… Then a particular notice caught his eye.

"ADVENTURERS WANTED: Infestation of the historic Kymal Mines. 200 gold per adventurer, 3 gold per monster trophy. Please see Desdreat Oakenhelm within the Lucky Lady for details."

"This is it!" Jayce ripped off one of several copies of the notice and only barely caught himself before showing it to Dahlia. "Found a notice for clearin' monsters out of a cave. Should be simple enough, and between the two of us, that's easily 400 gold."

Dahlia tilted her head side to side, mulling over the potential risks. In a dark cave, her blindness could even be an advantage, but that was only if the monsters didn't rely on sound like she did. Still, that was quite a bit of gold. That could last them both quite some time on the road.

"You'll need a light source; Beyond that, I do think we have a chance."

Jayce chuckled and patted her hand on his shoulder. "No need. I can see a fair distance in the dark. Ain't a problem to me."

"Huh. That's useful." Half-elf it is. Humans can't see in the dark. "Then we can save money on a torch."

"Exactly." Jacyce smiled, still brandishing the paper. "The notice says t' meet 'im in the Lucky Lady, which, as fortune has it, is to the right. Someone named 'Desdreat Oakenhelm'."

"Sounds dwarven. I imagine your method of finding the name on the notice will be different from my previous companions."

Jayce couldn't help raising an eyebrow as he turned to look at Dahlia. "Screamin' at the top of their lungs?"

"Peppered with swears. Yes."

"For fuck's sake! How'd you stand traveling with them?"

Dahlia sighed. "Many a desperate prayer."

She heard an affirming sound, as if Jayce had seen or thought of something worth a smug grin. Suddenly, far too close and without warning, she heard a voice. Malcolm. Malcolm had found them! But, Malcolm was...squeaking. Dahlia tensed, a shiver going up her spine, wondering how he had found them, but…it was as if he had suddenly suffered a rather pervasive cold. And the language was much...tamer than his usual vocabulary. Dahlia's shoulders slowly came down from around her ears as she tried to make sense of it all.

"Twinkletom Toe-tapper! We're lookin' for a flipper named Twinkletom Toe-tapper! If ya've seen a fudger named Twinkletom Toe-tapper, tell the big lug screamin' like a milksop babe or I'll punch ya!"

By the second "toe-tapper", Dahlia had clued in to what had happened.

"Jayce you mo-massive… Jerk!" She punched the back of his shoulder with her free hand as Jayce started laughing, feeling torn between the levity of it and the adrenaline of the panic his voice mimicry had nearly caused. "For a second I seriously thought Malcolm had found us!"

Jayce winced at the punch, but otherwise didn't respond, trying to avoid dodging another potential hit when she gripped the back of his hood as he moved forward. It was worth the pain in his shoulder blade.

He led her to the door of the Lucky Lady, the double doors leading in propped open to encourage patronage from those on the street, and the sound of speech and song drifted outward. He passed under the gilded framework and the gaudy sign, with Dahlia following.

"Miss Dahlia," he asked, risking a look backward to talk more directly to her, "why don't ya swear? That's at least twice now I've heard ya catch yourself."

Dahlia shrugged and shifted her grip to the back of his arm. "I find it vulgar and crude, and indicative of reactive speech instead of a well thought out response."

"Ya definitely seem to be mighty fond of large words, ma'am." Jayce scanned the patrons of the tavern, and, judging by the very dwarven sounding name on the notice, tried to note which ones were dwarves and who would likely be waiting for a crew of adventurers to sidle up to them. He spotted a very haggard looking dwarf seated by the wall, dressed in well groomed, dark velvets and an oaken brooch clipping back his cape over his shoulder. He was stroking a grey streaked, braided black beard while in deep conversation with three individuals, who definitely looked like an adventuring party. One of them was nearly seven feet tall, with grey skin and black tattoos. A goliath. Jayce's eyes went wide as he sized them up, noting he had only just now realized the tales he had heard of the giant-like people were, in fact, all true.

"I prefer the term polysyllabic."

The comment managed to startle Jayce out of the trance caused by seeing the massive man. He laughed nervously. "Well, good news, I think we found our dwarf."

Dahlia sighed. "I feel like that's only half the statement."

Jayce nodded. "Bad news, looks like we ain't the only ones interested in the flyer. He's already talkin' to a party of travelers. A...by my reckon, half-elf, in dark clothes and at least three daggers on his belt, a gnome wearin' a maroon robe and with spectacles on his nose so probably a mage of some kind, and a massive grey man with black tattoos and a great axe on his back. Looks like a goliath if I've ever seen one."

Dahlia rolled her lip over her teeth. "What kind of armor are they wearing?"

Jayce was confused, but looked them over again. "Well, the gnome and the goliath ain't got any, and if that half-elf is wearin' armor, it's gotta be light. I can't see anythin' obvious under his clothes."

Dahlia's fingers dug into Jayce's arm hard enough to cause him to wince, and instinctively he jammed his thumb between her hand and his upper arm. "Ow! The fuck's that for?!" he yelped, more confused than angry.

If Dahlia hadn't been wearing the gloves, he was concerned her knuckles would have turned sheet white. Her fists were balled in front of her as she fought some mental battle, which she seemed to ultimately lose.

She couldn't trust them. All she had was Jayce's description of them. A half-elf in dark clothes? That sounded like a thief. Those types of people were untrustworthy by nature. A magical gnome was hardly better. Gnomes were known for being inquisitive, let alone mages; She owed her blindness to a curious man of magical persuasion, and she was sure that the gnome would find some appealing reason to harm her further. And a goliath… She had heard tales as well. Terrible tales of entire villages razed to the ground, with all that remained being ashes and gnawed bones. Absolutely not. She would journey with Jayce, and him alone.

"Nevermind. We'll wait our turn," she mumbled, hugging herself.

"Yeah… Sure." Jayce was concerned, but already knew trying to touch her in a comforting way would backfire. Instead, he tapped her arm above her elbow, and from there she was able to grip his arm in the same place as before. Once again, she stood behind him, forcing Jayce to drop his own hold on her.

Bracing himself but not letting it show, he approached the table with a friendly smile. "Good sirs! A minute of your time." He turned to the dwarf, and did a short but respectful bow. "I presume you are Desdreat Oakenhelm, the man who posted this flyer?"

Jayce held up his copy and the dwarf nodded quickly. Jayce immediately noticed the half-elf turn sour.

"Yes, I am he." The dwarf pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his bald head. "Before you ask, no, I'm not limiting the number of applicants. If you wish to dive into the mine, please sit, and I'll fill you in on the details as well."

"So of course, I now have other questions." The half-elf leaned forward in his seat, spinning a dagger on its point into the grain of the table. "Such as, if we complete the task, but they come back first, who gets the gold?"

Jayce led Dahlia to a seat while Desdreat sighed. "Could that possibly wait? I'd like to know the names of the people I'm sending to their death."

"Obviously, you haven't heard of us…" the half-elf muttered loud enough to be heard. He flipped the blade into the air and easily caught it in his palm, suddenly pointing it at Jayce. "And what the hell are you planning, dragging a blindfolded woman into a mine filled with monsters?"

"What? Blind?" The gnome perked up, shifting his glasses back up his nose. "How curious!"

Jayce intentionally ignored them. "I'm Jayce, and this here is Dahlia the Blind Surgeon."

It was almost miraculous how the other three men were suddenly quiet, contemplating something private while Desdreat looked surprised. "A blind surgeon?"

"The, thank you," Dahlia said, crossing her arms as Jayce pulled up a chair from another table. "I've yet to meet another surgeon skilled enough to continue their trade after the loss of sight."

"Impressive!" the gnome chimed in, resetting his glasses across his ears. His salt and pepper hair was an absolute mess across his scalp, but his short beard was expertly trimmed and framed his round face well. "How do you determine a diagnosis that is typically concluded from the color and viscosity of bile?"

"By the scent of acidity, contents expelled from the digestive system, use of an assistant," Dahlia rolled a palm toward Jayce, "and in desperate situations, by taste."

The half-elf nearly gagged as the table held a range of emotions from disgust to awe.

"Intriguing!" the gnome said, pulling out a small book from inside his sleeve and making notes with a strange wooden pen. "Gauth, I like this one. We should recruit her."

The goliath, ever standing behind the gnome, grunted his disapproval.

"If you don't mind!" Desdreat roughly dragged the handkerchief down his face. "Sir Jayce, Madam Dahlia, welcome to the table. As I was telling these three men here, I own a nearby mine that is more historic than useful these days. Despite its lack of profit, it is still heirloom property that one day I wish to give to my son-"

"Yes yes, we heard this part!" The half-elf rubbed his temples in frustration. "Get to the part where we have to kill things for gold."

The dwarf shot him a look that, had the half-elf been paying attention, would have caused the man to wince. "Yes, of course. As of late, my attempts to reevaluate the mine have been met with great resistance. Men under my employ have claimed to see great lizards, perhaps goblins, maybe even strange, man-sized insects… I do know several have been grievously harmed by strange traps laid by whatever now occupies the mine."

"You are aware men in darkness and under duress often hallucinate?" the gnome said, continuing to write notes.

"I'm sorry?" Desdreat, distracted by the interruption, had obviously caught only part of the comment.

The gnome rolled his eyes. "Do you know men see scary mind pictures when they are scared and in the dark?"

Desdreat huffed and turned a lovely shade of red as Jayce successfully hid a chuckle behind his fist. The half-elf, however, was less subtle in his attempt to hide his mirth at the dwarf's expense, and Desdreat flew from his seat in rage.

"That's it! Out! I refuse to hire such disrespectful ingrates! Out!"

Dahlia went stock stiff in her seat and Jayce threw up his hands in surrender, hoping to avoid the wrath of the dwarf and possibly score the job. The half-elf attempted to retort, but the goliath grabbed his shoulder with a massive hand and turned him away.

"Well, I suppose the less-learned among us would be prone to rash decisions," the gnome said, hopping down from his seat.

"I said out!" Desdreat roared. Half of the tavern was watching now.

"Gauth, Al, come along. There will be more work to do."

The gnome led the procession out of the Lucky Lady, with the half-elf, presumably Al, trailing behind. Just a few steps from the table, Al made sure to spin and present both middle fingers to Desdreat, who continued to sputter with rage and indignation as they left.

"In case it wasn't obvious," Jayce whispered to Dahlia, "that half-elf just flipped both birds at our prospective employer."

"I'll assume you mean the middle digit, and if that's the case, then yes, I gathered."

Desdreat landed in his seat with a thump, rubbing his face with the handkerchief. "Many apologies to the both of you, sir…"

"Jayce, and this is Dahlia," Jayce said.

"Yes, Jayce, and Dahlia." Desdreat took a moment to drink deeply from an otherwise neglected mug of beer. "A notice can bring in all types, and occasionally those types are unpleasant."

"Perfectly understandable," Jayce said, shifting forward in his seat. "After all, it did bring in a retired sailor and a blind doctor."

"Yes, and I would like to know the wisdom in that." Desdreat finally seemed to settle into his own seat and faced the two of them. "I have heard of adventurers losing limbs in the pursuit of gold and glory, but the loss of one's sight seems to be a retireable wound."

"I survive," Dahlia said, moving her hands to her lap but otherwise still as tense as when she walked into the tavern. "It's likely obvious I rely greatly on my traveling companion, but my skills are more defensive, which takes advantage of my usual position behind the battle. I also have decades of experience being blind, and as such I can move around in most spaces with little assistance, should the need arise. Furthermore, a cave is, typically, lightless, and as such won't affect me in the slightest."

Desdreat gave an impressed nod, not even realizing Dahlia couldn't see his reaction. "And you, Sir Jayce. A retired sailor…?"

"Just Jayce, please. I ain't no knight or saint." Jayce relaxed his shoulders and adopted a more open position in his seat. "Found myself in search of services that ain't available at sea. Mainly, an education."

"Oh! That is...unexpected, especially of someone of your ilk." Jayce's jaw tightened, but he kept his friendly smile as Desdreat continued. "Though I can't say you could find much of an education in Kymal."

"To be honest, I had Westruun in mind. I heard nearly a quarter of the city is a college."

Desdreat nodded. "I've heard the same, although I can't say I've been. I do know it's northwest of the city, and the Silvercut Roadway, north of here, will take you straight there."

Jayce was relieved, and a bit annoyed. He had been travelling westward from Stilben to find Westruun, and was miffed to learn he had overshot his mark. He had even begun his journey on the Silvercut Roadway, but had become sidetracked somewhere in the Dividing Plains. He really needed a map.

"Mighty kind of you to lend the information, good sir, but I believe we're here for your troubles."

Desdreat sighed and rubbed his face with the handkerchief again. "Yes, the mine."

"While I understand his presentation of the question was incredibly rude," Dahlia cut in, still stiff in her seat, "I would like to know if you trust your hired workers to speak truthfully while under duress. Do you believe they truly saw what they said they saw?"

Desdreat again nodded, but thankfully continued with a comment. "Yes, I do. Many of them have faced the darkest nights of Kymal, including competing for gold in local underground fighting rings. It would take quite the effort to rattle most of them. With that being said, I find it hard to believe those mines are home to quite the...range of creatures I have heard. It is possible it may be just goblins, or just massive rodents, and stories became jumbled along the way."

"So, take it with a grain a salt, yer sayin'." Jayce steepled his fingers and gave it deep thought. He faced surface goblins even on the way here, so it couldn't be terribly difficult to clear a cave of them. Hopefully it was just goblins.

"Indeed." Desdreat pulled out a furled parchment and laid it out across the table. It was an old, worn map of central Tal'Dorei, marked with the location of the mine. "My mine is here, in the Ironseat Ridge, just north of the city. And, as a token of my appreciation of your demeanor, the map is yours to keep."

Jayce looked it over. It didn't go any further north than Westruun and no further south than Syngorn, but it was good enough for his purposes. "Many thanks, sir! I was in the market for a map!" he smiled.

"You're quite welcome, Jayce."

"Sir?" Dahlia nearly raised her hand as if she was requesting attention in a school room. "Another question the previous party had presented but failed to get an answer; How will you know we have done the work?"

"It is a good question, madam. I know the mine is two hours north on foot, following the markers with Prosperity written in dwarven by the side of the road." Desdreat tapped the map, where the symbol in question was sketched right next to the mark for the mine. "This one. I know how long it takes to thoroughly investigate the mine, and of course there are the two hours back. Additionally, if you return with no trophies, I will have to assume you did not, in fact, clear the mine, and merely wasted my time. Finally, one of my surveying crews was lost in the deepest parts of the mine. If you return with proof you have found the crew, or what remains of them, I will know you ventured the length and breadth of my property. If there is anything else in the mine that may be of use to you, you have my permission to keep it for your journeys."

"Well, you've given this some thought." Jayce chuckled and scanned the map a final time before rolling it up to put in his knapsack. "Thanks in advance for your generosity."

"Of course. I will frequent the Lucky Lady for the next week, but if you are unable to find me when you return, the staff know of my home." Desdreat stood from his seat and held out a hand for Jayce to shake. "It was honestly a pleasure talking to you both, Jayce and Madam Dahlia. I wish you the most elusive of luck in Kymal in your endeavors."

Jayce accepted the handshake with a firm grip of his own. "Thank ya kindly, Sir Oakenhelm. When next we meet, may it be with good news!"

Desdreat Oakenhelm nodded with a relieved smile, and returned to his seat. Jayce rose and tapped Dahlia's arm, giving her a chance to rise and find his arm before heading out of the tavern. He made sure to send the dwarf a friendly wave as they left.

"That went well." Jayce beamed. He honestly felt that couldn't have gone better.

"Surprisingly so. Even after the underhanded comment he gave you."

Jayce rolled his eyes and sighed. "I'm assumin' you heard the 'your ilk' comment."

Dahlia couldn't help a slight, secretive smile. "Jayce, I'm blind. There's not much I don't hear, mainly because I don't have much of a choice."

Jayce shrugged. "That's fair. And I'm sure he meant nothin' by it. Been gettin' those comments all my life, mostly by folks who don't know better."

"Well, you shouldn't. You're a good man, Jayce. You're the only man I've ever met who would go out of his way for a useless cripple he barely knew."

Jayce came to an abrupt stop, causing Dahlia to bump into his back. He turned and placed his hand over hers. He knew she couldn't look him in the eye, but he wanted to make sure she knew she was being given his full attention.

"Now hold on a minute! I know we ain't more than acquaintances, but you ain't a cripple, and you sure as hell ain't useless. The way you adapt is nothin' short of amazing, and you've gotta be the smartest woman I've ever met. We've had, what, five conversations? I've learned a new fuckin' word every single time and can barely keep up with you for half of it."

Dahlia felt her heart catch in her throat, and nearly choked. She fought with all her being to suppress a sob as her mind began assaulting her with every seemingly feasible reason that what he said was an utter lie. Despite this, she seemed stone faced, and simply nodded in an attempt to appease her companion and end the conversation.

"Good," Jayce said, sure he had been understood. He patted her arm and turned to continue walking through Kymal. "All that's left is to get some vittles and head to that mine."

Dahlia was temporarily robbed of her voice; an unfortunate side effect of battling the onslaught of negative thoughts that always plagued her in moments of intense emotion. She nodded again, hoping Jayce could see the response and not question it, but as nothing was said, she wondered if it was even needed. She was pulled along through the streets of the city, the voices, sounds, and audible sensations of the streets washing over her...but until she recovered, she would be numb to it all. Nothing registered as important, even when Jayce asked her opinion on something. She just shrugged. She was too mentally exhausted to care.

"Oh...kay, then. I'll just, uh, grab what I can find."

Jayce was confused. Just a few minutes ago, she had been as uptight and tense as a main sail in a full wind, and had not held back a variety of verbose comments. Now, her shoulders drooped like someone had knocked the wind out of her, and his suggestion to find "squirrel food" had garnered almost no reaction. Something was wrong. Jayce already knew there was more to her than she let on, that much was obvious, but now he wondered just how many layers he'd have to peel back just to know who he was talking to.

He didn't blame her for being guarded. Her previous companions were a shining example of the type of people one should guard against. Even so, this silent mood she was in was worrying him. If she fell out of sorts during a battle, it could be fatal for either of them.

With that in mind, he knew she was making a seemingly massive effort to trust him. It was only fitting if he extended the courtesy of trusting her in return.

Jayce led Dahlia, who was dragging her feet only just enough to be noticeable, into the grocery he had spotted while walking toward the northern gate of Kymal. This store, Bari's Bulk Goods, was quite a bit bigger than the first store he had encountered near the gate, and seemed to be run by a friendly looking dwarven woman who was currently busy intercepting customers and regaling them the benefits of that day's special deals. As Jayce listened, it seemed to be mostly about the current fruits in season, including a supposedly rare shipment of apricots.

Like the previous store, the walls were covered in a stuffy arrangement of home goods, tableware, and bulk supplies, with shelves evenly spaced to create two additional corridors to the far wall of the shop. While browsing these shelves, Jayce found several bags of rations, bundled to last ten days each, and he grabbed two. He didn't expect to be out of town for more than a few days, but he knew they would last, and he planned on hitting the road as soon as possible. Might as well stock up now.

Thankfully, the proprietor's strong, uplifting voice was easy to follow through the shelves. As soon as he spotted her, he managed to make eye contact and indicate he was ready to make a purchase.

He immediately regretted his action.

"Well aren't ye a handsome sight!" the dwarven lady beamed, her eyes brightening with a smile of their own. She turned to the two women she had been speaking to and said, "Pardon me, ladies, but a rather delectable duty calls!"

The women giggled to themselves and returned to browsing the wares as the dwarf woman jogged over. "Thank'ee for your patience, sir. Oh! And miss! I didn't see the lady behind- Oh gods above, is the lassie blind?!"

Desperate for any distraction from the heat Jayce felt rising in his cheeks, he cleared his throat and was immediately glad Dahlia wasn't currently taking up his hands to be led around. "Yes, ma'am, and she's fine. We're lookin' for vittles for the road. Enough to make it to Westruun?"

"Oof, sonny, that's over two-hundred miles if ye follow the road." She briefly noted the two bags of rations he currently held. "Ye're lookin' at nearly a fortnight. Now, what ye've got is enough for one t' make it, but unless ye plan to forage in the Dividing Plains, you'll end up hungry for the last leg o' the trip."

Jayce nodded and gave it some thought. Although he had been told he had more than his fair share of luck when it came to fishing, he wasn't much good when it came to foraging on land.

"That ain't...encouragin'. How much for the bags?"

The lady sighed and played with the delicate blond curls of her beard. "Normally, I'd say five gold a bag, but ye're easy on the eyes, and I'll take a gold off each for a kiss-"

Dahlia surfaced from her mental fog just in time to feel Jayce tense as if preparing for an attack, and twitched in panic.

"-on the cheek!" the dwarf giggled.

"What in the world did I just miss?" Dahlia whispered into Jayce's back.

"Welcome back," Jayce chuckled nervously, twisting just enough to aim his comment at Dahlia. "I'm haggling the price for our vittles."

"Lad, I could listen to ye all day, but me offer's only good for the next few moments. I have work to do!"

"I-I'll give you the kiss, on the condition you throw in an extra bag at the same price, and," Jayce swallowed his nervousness and flashed his winning smile, bowing enough to look the woman more comfortably in the eye, "you honor me with your name, ma'am. I don't make it a habit to kiss ladies I ain't familiar with, but a name'll change that."

The woman blushed and fanned herself with her hand, giggling like a little girl. "Oh! Goodness, ye're a smooth one! The name's Baribegar, same as the shop. Bari to my friends. Ye've got yourself a deal!"

Jayce gently lifted Dahlia's hand from his arm and knelt to place a gentle, lingering kiss on Bari's cheek, feeling the warmth of her face through his lips. He fought with every inch of his being to keep his own blushing in check.

"Let me get this straight; You are kissing the owner of this shop for a discount on road rations?"

And there goes the mood. Jayce winced but tried to save the moment by taking Bari's hand and placing another tender kiss on her ring finger, as was proper...he hoped. He may have read it somewhere but it was hard to remember the details in the current moment.

"And that one's free," he whispered, with a wink.

"Gods above, you keep that up and I'm takin' ye home!" Bari laughed. "Twelve for the lot. Hand me the coins, and grab a bag on the way out. I need to rest meself a spell!"

"An absolute pleasure doin' business, Bari," Jayce said, putting a subtle emphasis on "pleasure". He quickly counted out the coins, passed them over, and took Dahlia's arm to lead her behind the nearest shelf, where he finally took a second to breathe.

"What in the world?" Dahlia said, trying to understand why Jayce suddenly sounded as if he had run a hard mile. "You sounded like you were practically asking that woman to bed you and now you sound like you're in a panic."

Jayce ran a hand down his face, taking a final deep breath to calm his breathing. "I… Just… Look, this'll sound fuckin' dumb, but I ain't a fan of talkin' to women."

Dahlia stepped back and crossed her arms. "I find that very hard to believe, Jayce. You just seduced a woman for a discount."

"Just because I'm good at it doesn't mean I like it!" Jayce snapped, and immediately slapped a hand over his mouth in shock. Talking back is bad. Talking back is very bad.

He had to keep his temper in check, especially around her. It always caused nothing but trouble.

Dahlia's face, half covered as it was, softened, and she reached a hand for his arm. "Jayce?"

"Damn my blood…" he hissed to himself, both fists tight enough to stress the leather around his knuckles. He turned to Dahlia. "I'm fine. Let's grab that last bag and go."

He suddenly stopped, and shuddered. Dahlia's hand was tracing his sleeve, up to his shoulder, then across his collar, and finally his jaw. She placed her palm against his cheek, and once again Jayce felt a blush rise across his face.

"Jayce, you're taking me as I am, faults and all. Whatever demons follow you, whatever scars you carry, I shall endeavour to shoulder my share. Just don't expect me to be quiet about it."

Jayce nodded dumbly, his cheek hot under her hand. He couldn't remember what he was supposed to do next.

And then her hand was gone.

"So, where's the bag?" Dahlia said, motioning around her with the hand she had used to touch his face. Jayce found his eyes drawn to that hand, once again noting she was wearing soft leather gloves. Why was that such a big deal to him?

"Uh, over here. Here, um, grab my arm." He once again led her hand to his arm before walking down the aisle, and did not even stop to mull over which bag to take with them. He simply grabbed the closest bag of ten days of rations and headed straight for the exit.

Dahlia thought about his reactions, how his breath caught when he nearly lost his temper, how he almost seemed to shrink back from her in that moment. She knew that was likely caused by some trauma in his past, but the exact nature of it eluded her. For now. Besides, she had learned something, and it caused her to smile to herself.

"Well, I did learn something about you," she said, easily falling into step behind him as they reached the street.

"Huh?" Jayce half turned, but continued walking northward. "What's that?"

"I now know what the right half of your face looks like."

Jayce nearly tripped when the absurdity of the comment caused him to skip a step. "The right half of my face? What?"

Dahlia nearly let the smile slip, but Jayce did catch the corner of it. "When I touched your face. That's how I see, Jayce. Now I know the shape of half of your face, so now, in a way, I can 'see' you when I talk to you."

"Fuck me. I didn't even realize how hard it must be t' tell people apart!" Jayce said, quite impressed.

She shrugged as they walked. "Just as few people look alike, few people sound alike. Tone and timbre, sentence structure and accent… Granted, there are those who are more unique than others, but I can typically identify someone by voice. Providing they don't decently mimic someone else I know."

Jayce snorted a chuckle and felt his good spirits return. "Apologies again, ma'am. I should'a figured that was a line I shouldn't've crossed."

"As entertaining as that was, warning will be appreciated in the future."

"Yes ma'am!"

"And use my name!"

Jayce laughed as they continued to walk to the northern gate. Two hours of walking would get them to the mine entrance in time to settle for a quick lunch and give them a chance to discuss strategy, which would be prudent as Desdreat Oakenhelm had mentioned traps. It would also give him a chance to ask her more about her past, and as he promised, answer any questions she had about his. Within reason, of course.

As they sidled past the gilded facade of Kymal, two figures, guided by a much subtler third, continued to follow the two of them into the base of the Ironseat Ridge. The land beyond was practically barren, dotted with dry, hardy plants that found purchase among the craggy debris of the mountains. It would be difficult to stay out of sight with so little cover, but it was a risk the three of them were willing to take.