While Therion and Primrose were largely unfazed with the recent development, Alfyn darts at once to the injured guard who came limping in. He kneels down beside him while others stand to run out to their posts. His attentive eyes glance and take in all the injuries quickly as his hands work independently to pull the man aside so they avoid blocking the door.
The guard has several grazes on his arms and legs, likely from arrows. Those are small wounds. What worries Alfyn the most is the two shafts poking out of his back, where the arrows had pierced true, through the armor and into his abdomen from behind. It'd be optimistic thinking they didn't hit anything vital.
The pub is nearly all empty, save some frightened civilians. Therion and Primrose walk over to Alfyn.
"… You got this right?" Therion says impassively.
"Y-yeah… careful guys. These bandits're probably usin' arrows t' keep distance…"
"I'm going to go back to the inn to fetch Sadiq," Primrose says, "That is… if he hasn't woken up already."
"Yeah, he's got one hell of a battle sense…" Therion goes to step out now and smirks slightly into the night, "Better than the guards here, I'll bet."
"Therion…!" Alfyn sighs, "Just be careful ok? Don't get too cocky…"
"Hear that, Therion?" Primrose chuckles as she passes the thief, "Don't worry, Alfyn. We'll be fine."
"He needs to watch himself is more like i-" Primrose yanks Therion away before he finishes his sentence.
The dancer and thief run out into the night, leaving the apothecary with the injured guard in the tavern. Alfyn suppresses his worry for them as he hastily binds the minor wounds. If he disturbed the arrows now, they might cause an internal hemorrhage. He looks to the tavern keeper.
"Uh, y' think y' can help me here? Got a bed I can use? Or a table, anything?"
"U-uhm…" The tavern keeper seems to regain his senses after the brief stint of chaos, "W-why yes, t-table… Noelle help him with Gregory…"
The bald man moves to hastily clean a nearby table. Noelle seems to also snap out of her daze and hurries over to Alfyn. For a moment it seemed the event had stilled her tongue.
"G-Gregory is … Anything I can do to help, Alfyn?" She asks him with urgency in her voice and slight desperation in her eyes.
"Yeah, help me with his legs, would ya? We gotta move 'im to a table so I can treat those arrow wounds…"
The barmaid nods and grabs the guard's legs. Alfyn hauls his upper body and the two manage to lug the man over to the table the tavern keeper cleared. They lay him down with his back facing up, showing the two arrow shafts protruding out from his lower back. Gregory barely moans as he's moved, completely unconscious.
"Oh… ohh…" Noelle withdraws a bit seeing the dark liquid seeping, as well as the puddle on the floor from earlier. She takes the mop offered from the tavern keeper with shaky hands and goes to clean the blood up from the doorway.
Alfyn pulls off the guard's armor, careful around the entry wound, before also removing his clothes. He takes out a handful of moss and a grape leaf. Using his mortar and pestle, he grinds up the materials into a paste, releasing the essence of grape from the leaf. Taking a small knife from his bag, the one usually for cutting herbs, he looks hard at the arrow wound's area.
It would definitely be a difficult surgery. He'd only ever read about arrow wounds, since they didn't use a lot of them in the Riverlands. And the monsters didn't either. The closest thing he'd ever done was a wasp sting, and those you could rip out even past the barb. But an arrow was bigger. It catches on more and tears more if ripped out improperly. People would die during treatment for arrows rather than being shot by them. Goren told him about how there were soldiers who just lived with an arrowhead stuck in them and bore the pain for the rest of their lives just due to how dangerous the removal procedure was.
The trick to getting it out was to slice out the flesh it was caught on. That was very invasive and risked damaging a lot of surrounding tissue. The second method was pushing it out the other way and then pulling it by the head. But that was little better than the first method. There were supposedly tools to remove arrows with varying accuracy all over Orsterra. The one Zeph's dad had told him about was developed in Atlasdam and had the most success so far. They call it the spoon of Dohter. He didn't have anything like that. Much too pricey for some bumpkin to ever afford, much less come across. It would have to be done solely with this knife.
Taking a breath, Alfyn steels himself, "Uh, can you guys get Gregory a cloth, or summin' to bite on? This is… gonna hurt a bit and I don't want 'im to wake up bitin' his tongue."
The tavern keeper takes a couple of moments before registering the request. Snatching a dish cloth, he affixes it in a wad between Gregory's teeth.
"Nasty things, arrows…" Alfyn steadies his hand and slides in his knife alongside the shaft, digging it towards the head. Gregory twitches as he does so. Slowly, Alfyn lets his sense of touch take over. The knife can locate the arrowhead and then carve out the flesh around it. He just had to be careful. No matter what, this guy wasn't dying tonight.
He feels something hard. He'd found it. Now for the surgery. Moving the knife around the head gingerly, he could feel the flesh peeling away from the metal. Leaving any of the dead flesh in there was basically begging for an infection, but that comes second to the removal. Gregory was now twitching, an unconscious grimace forming on his face. The pain was making him lucid. But Alfyn felt the arrowhead loosen. It could be taken out now.
Applying the paste he'd made around the entry wound, Alfyn grips the arrow shaft and keeps a hand on the application. With a victorious flourish, he pulls out the arrow with its bloody head. Quickly, as blood bubbles and threatens to flood from the now free wound, he applies his magic, freezing the paste into a seal on the wound. The essence in the paste would speed up the body's natural healing factor. Now for the second arrow…
…
The fire of the torches did not lift all the darkness in the night, nor did it fully illuminate the streets of Cobbleston as its warriors battled the unseen threat. The bandits had been stayed from households at the very least by the night watch. However, they had come in larger numbers than expected, and practically surrounded much of the access points into the town. From higher ground, they had men shooting down at the guards, many of which could not see their attackers from above in turn.
"YAARGH!" A bandit pops out from the shadows at an unsuspecting guard. Before the guard reacts, Therion trips him from behind so the bandit's blade swipes open air. The thief then jams his dagger into the bandit's gut before pulling it out. The bandit gives a loud yell, falling back on his ass and clutching his wound. He'll live. The guard looks up to the stranger savior.
"Uh, thank-" The guard starts, regaining his tongue.
"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Therion rolls his eyes.
"Uh- oh, right!" The guard scrambles to his feet and runs back down the street.
Therion sighs and looks down at the bandit straining with his injury. He takes out his rope and proceeds to tie the guy up, "I wouldn't move too much if I were you. Poison'll just get you faster that way."
"Y-you… fuc…" The bandit's words are cut short as he coughs on the foam forming at his lips. Then he passes out, trussed up like a roast bird at Therion's feet.
The thief sighs. Bandits and thieves. There is a thin line between the two. Bandits were more like thugs, pirates and ruffians. They're rougher and don't mind the scuffle. They don't care if they're loud or seen. They don't mind killing. They care only about getting something out of it. In the world of thieves, Therion always heard Marta scolding those in the gang.
"I din't raise y'all t' be those swine of fakes! Yer thieves and you have an honor you hear! That's what makes ye different!"
She didn't like conflict. Aimed above it. A thief, she would always emphasize, goes for just the goods, not to harm. Their signature is leaving targets confused at most, not dead. "We aren't fighters," she often said. Therion could hear her chewing him out in her head for having been involved in the recent slew of battles. He himself was wondering right now what he was doing.
"… Where'd the damn princess go…" He sighs and looks around for any signs of the dancer. They had gotten separated just shortly after leaving the tavern. She heard some stupid cry for help and ran towards it. He lagged a bit, which then allowed a bandit to get between them. He ended up running to the inn, hoping she ran there afterward. Sadiq was nowhere to be seen in their room, as luck would have it. The innkeeper timidly told the thief from under his desk that the old man might have run out at the first sound of the bell. But he was hiding so he couldn't be totally sure.
From this higher vantage point, he surveys Cobbleston. The town is now a virtual battleground, as far as he can see. By a nearby torch, he sees a flash of red moving, and something like gold glinting in the light of the fire. It was her. She's squaring off against some bandit with two swords. But her movements look restricted. She's not dancing around like usual. That already puts her at a disadvantage. He couldn't quite spot what was wrong from this distance.
Therion sighs with mild annoyance and grabs the ledge of the rocky outcrop before the inn. Due to the architecture, it is actually surprisingly easy to scale down from the top, with many buildings built so close to the mountain walls. His feet slide down along the rock before finding footing on the shingled roof below. Then he starts jumping to the next lower one, making his way to the dancer.
…
Just a few paces from the tavern, Primrose heard the voice of a little girl. It was spellbinding, what one word would do when it sounded just right, said the right words the right way.
"FATHER!"
The scenery of Cobbleston suddenly just melted away. Her feet move without much of her needing to tell them to. That voice she heard was that of herself, ten years ago. What she had not been able to say, to cry out. She didn't hear the thief call after her as she ran towards it. She wasn't aware where she was going, but she somehow maneuvered past other people fighting in the cobbled streets and found the source without thinking.
A little girl with freckles and braids cowers near the slumped body of a man at the side of a house, murmuring for her father repeatedly. The man has stab wounds in his abdomen, blood pooling around where he lay. His hands are limp at his sides and his face is ashen. Around them, the sounds of Cobbleston under siege rises.
"F-fatherr…." The girl sobs pitifully and repeatedly wipes at the tears cascading down her face. She clings to her father's clothes, gently trying to shake him awake.
Primrose's breath catches in her throat. For a moment, she saw darkness tinge the edge of her vision. No, she wasn't blacking out. It was fury. She was feeling that cold fury once more, reliving that day and that moment when she had been reduced to this same state.
Biting back her anger momentarily, she goes to the little girl's side to comfort her.
"Hey… Are you alright?" She speaks gently.
"M-Muh… fathurr… please, miss… unh…" She looks to the dancer with wide pleading eyes, snot and tears dripping, "B-bad guy … he had… a knife and…!"
"Come. There is an apothecary at the town tavern. He can help your father…" She goes to lightly pull the little girl away.
"N-Nooh!" The girl clings stubbornly, "'M… 'm not leaving h-him!"
It's to be expected. She would have clung then too.
"… What is your name?" Primrose manages a small smile despite the need for revenge eating away at her inside.
"M-Meri…"
"Meri, your father will be alright… he needs help and we need to go get it to him. The bad people are everywhere now and he wouldn't want you hurt as well…"
Gods, it was what her father wanted her to understand that night.
Before Meri can answer, her eyes widen and she seems fearful. Primrose turns just in the nick of time to see a bandit with two swords bringing one down upon her. With a quick reflex, she meets the strike with her dagger. The blades clash but she dare not give an inch despite the apparent difference in strength. Instead, she kicks at the bandit, who jumps back a few paces from her and Meri. The little girl resumes her crying.
"Yer a pretty lil' thang ain't ya? I think ye'll make a nice wench fer us!" The bandit leers, brandishing his weapons.
Primrose glares at him and she sees positive red. However… she shouldn't use her magic near Meri so overtly. Her other hand goes to draw a second dagger and she takes her battle stance.
The bandit rushes in, a flurry of blades. It seems these bastards aren't just all strength. They're fast too.
"Dance, baby, dance!" He raves.
Primrose clicks her tongue and is about to dance circles around his pitiful tirade. But then his blades suddenly reach at an odd angle past her, going straight for…
"NGH!" She barely catches the blades within the cross of her daggers. The movement was awkward due to her not expecting him to suddenly change trajectory for the girl behind her.
"Hehe! Oh ya got nice moves…"
Primrose spits at his feet, "Swine!"
"Aw, dear, yer breakin' me heart!" He laughs and kicks at her midriff. She coughs, staggering a bit. He lands a slash on her shoulder, "'Course, I like 'em feisty!"
"Shut… up!" She slashes up at his face suddenly, missing him by mere hairs. He hops back, a thin red line drawn across his face. Meri behind her has quieted her cries somewhat.
"Yer quick too. Hehe," The bandit lightly smears the blood on his face, "But can ya really win protectin' dat kid?"
"Scum of the earth…" Primrose growls, "You already took her father…!"
With her sudden burst of anger, she rushes him with increased speed. He seems taken unawares and tries to block a tad slowly. Her dagger cuts into the side of his neck, knicking one of the jugular arteries. The blood spews from his wound and he gives a loud yell.
"AAAGH!"
The dancer silences him with a stab to the chest. He coughs and garbles his words a little before dropping his swords to the ground. Primrose pulls out her dagger and pushes him off. She turns to look over to Meri.
"Meri? Are you…"
She sees the little girl at the hands of another bandit. This one holds a knife to her freckled face and looks at Primrose with a bit of a hungry look. Meri seems to have run out of tears, now instead fearfully quiet.
"… you…" Primrose silently curses her oversight at having left Meri's side.
"That's some nice jewelry you got," The bandit says in a low voice, "Take it off."
Primrose starts undoing her necklace slowly.
"Faster! Or I'll gut this one like I did her daddy…" The knife presses on Meri's cheek, eliciting a whimper.
The darkness was calling. It called for blood and release. It was building like an uncontrollable wave with her helplessness fueling it. She could murder him. Right now. She should.
Kill him… Just do it…
Her eyes burnished with a hellish hue, the same which scared the trousers off Helgenish. There was that pain in her chest again, only it felt like a good fire was burning. Darkness tinged her vision once more, and she saw Meri and the bandit slowly grow unsettled looking at her. That's right… be afraid…
WHUMP
The thief slides down from the nearby rooftop and squarely plants his feet on the side of the bandit's head. The latter collapses like a sack of potatoes, relinquishing his hold on Meri. Therion lands on his feet neatly and dusts himself off.
"… You ok?" He asks without even looking at her.
The murderous rage subsides for now, replaced with sudden relief.
"… Yeah, thanks…" She walks over and kicks the bandit, knocked out cold, "You have nice timing."
"The whole place is overrun. Sadiq wasn't at the inn," He mutters, "We oughta skip town."
"… Let's at least get this child to safety first then…" Primrose looks back to Meri and her father, "We need to bring him with us. He'll die of bleeding out."
Therion rolls his eyes, "We're only going to get slowed down."
"She'll make a fuss without him. Come on, I'll buy you a drink when it's over."
That's a terrible deal.
"Moving him might just make him die faster."
"… Then you stay here with her and I'll go get Alfyn."
"Look, how do you know he isn't already dead…?" Therion hisses the last part. Meri luckily did not seem to hear.
"… I'm going to get Alfyn."
Before Therion can object, the dancer runs off, back to the tavern. It's gotta be that history with her father that's messing with her. Why else go so far? Therion kicks the bandit at his feet nonchalantly when he groans.
"Yer jus' a sentimental sap ain'tcha, Therion?"
Therion draws his blades as he hears more steps converging.
"It's gonna be a damn long night..."
…
Primrose ran through the streets where the local guard was attending to wounded. There were calls to retreat, probably from the bandits. Those damn bastards…
There is a loud bellow at the street opening before her, making her suddenly aware of her surroundings. A large blade swings out, throwing off the body of a bandit from its length. It is a blade larger than any she had ever seen. The figure holding it steps out from the shadows, carrying already two others slumped over his shoulder. He wore the clothes of the peasants, made of sackcloth. His face was grim and worn with scars, one most notable by his temple. Despite his aged face, his hair was mostly still black, though streaked in placed with grey. His eyes were dark and hardened orbs. He sees the dancer and the wound on her shoulder.
"… Miss, are you alright?"
"I'm fine," She glances at those he carries, "… You should take them to safety."
"There is a traveling apothecary apparently set up for the moment in the tavern. Let us make haste."
Of course Alfyn is already working his skill. The dancer follows behind the stranger silently as they run back to the tavern. The sounds of battle seem to be dying down around town.
"I must apologize for what this seems like to a newcomer in Cobbleston," The man says gruffly as they run, "But there has been a recent rash of bandit activity. And they are very bold."
Maybe Therion has a point about skipping town.
Just as they near the square, there is a blur of movement towards the man. Without much thought, the dancer sends a lash of darkness at it along with her thrown dagger. The projectile bounces cleanly off, mere inches from the man's head, and embeds itself into the nearby wall of a house. It is an arrow. Primrose swiftly catches her dagger on its return. The man was surprised at the sound of the clash and he looks to her, a bit speechless at first.
"Sir! Oh thank Brand!" Some guard runs over with a bow, looking terribly apologetic, "I'm sorry sir, I guess me nerves must've gotten the best of me… I-I thought you a bandit rounding the bend and-"
"It's fine. I was… lucky," The man diverts his attention from the dancer briefly. He seems to be someone of importance here, she surmises.
"Come, we ought to bring in the wounded." And they resume their run for the tavern.
The tavern seems like a bit of a madhouse. Alfyn is working furiously alongside another man as they bandage wounds of the injured being bought in. Noelle and the barkeep seem to be helping out with supplies. There is blood on the floors and tables. Civilians seem to have found refuge by crowding near the door. Heads turn seeing the two enter.
"Berg, sir! You're alright!"
The man, apparently named Berg, nods solemnly and lays down the two injured on an available table, "Stanton just sustained a blow to the head, but Felix has a rather nasty gash from those bandit rats."
"Prim!" Alfyn looks to see the dancer, "Your shoulder-"
"It's fine," Prim hastily dismisses him, "There's a little girl named Meri. Her father-"
"Roger?!" Noelle pops in suddenly, "Did something happen to him and Meri?"
"I couldn't move him, Alfyn… there was too much blood…" Primrose bites her lip.
Alfyn seems to understand immediately. He looks to the other man bandaging injuries, "Trevor, I gotta go find those who couldn't make it here. Can ya hold the fort a bit?"
The one called Trevor nods slightly, not taking his attention off his patient.
"Prim, lead the way."
Alfyn follows the dancer out and they rush a bit to retrace her steps. In her head, she saw it in flashes again as doubt weaseled its way into her thoughts. Her father. Blood. Carpet. Dying. Dead. Orphan. No, it can't happen again. Not if she could help it.
"It'll be alright, Prim…" Alfyn says with an assuring smile, "I won't let my patients die…!"
"… Thank you, Alfyn…"
There are some cries through the night. Prim tunes them out, but Alfyn beside her almost faltered in step with each one. Eventually, they find where the thief stands. His dagger and sword are drawn and on the floor at his feet is two more bandits, both incapacitated. The thief seems fine for the most part, with some blood just splattered here and there on his face and poncho.
"Therion, yer okay!" Alfyn almost hugs the thief, who dances out of his reach with a tsk.
"Where's Meri…" Primrose looks for the girl and her father.
Therion points to the side of the house where some barrels were moved, "They were a pain in open view."
To Primrose's relief, the girl and her father are there behind the barrels. Meri seemed to have quieted a good deal, simply leaning on her father's chest now. Alfyn's eyes widen slightly at the bloodied man. Hurriedly, he kneels down, shoving away some barrels and even prying Meri off to press his ear on the man's chest. The girl yelps in protest but Primrose holds her back, speaking gently.
"That man is an apothecary, Meri… He can help your father…"
"N-noo… f—fadder…"
"… He was cold when I moved him," Therion says tersely.
Primrose bites her lip slightly as Alfyn goes to lie the man down. He seemed and sounded panicked as he examined the grievous wound. There was already a lot of blood on the cobbled street where he had lay. Meri sobs quietly in her arms.
Alfyn shakily glances back to Primrose after a few long moments of assessing the body.
"Prim…"
She could only stare as he said those horrible words next.
"… He's gone."
…
"U… uwaa…"
Primrose's grip on the girl slips and the little one runs to the corpse. There are cries from the fighters around:
"The bastards! They're runnin'!"
"Lookit 'em!"
Therion makes a small sound of annoyance and relief. He looks to the dancer. She seems a bit dazed. She's killed so many people already, but this one death seems to have frazzled her. He looks at Meri crying. There is no doubt his earlier hunch was right.
"P-Prim-"
"Alfyn, gimme a hand," The thief goes to pick up the dead man by one end, "We should move him."
"Uh- y-yeah, let's go back to the tavern…" The apothecary still looks to the dancer, slightly worried, "Prim, are you ok?"
She nods with a lackluster motion. Her bangs hide her eyes.
It was that feeling of helplessness again. Once more, she failed… and she sees him dying again. Through a slight haze, she comprehends what Alfyn and Therion say to her. As the other two move the body, she goes to hold the protesting Meri back.
"Father…!"
Primrose bites her lower lip and pulls Meri close to try and calm her down. Slowly, they make their way to the tavern as the battle around dies down.
"I really hope Sadi's alright…" Alfyn murmurs.
"The old man's tough," Therion sighs.
Upon arriving at the tavern, Alfyn pales a bit at the chaos at the entrance alone. There are wounded leaning on the walls to the side of the door since the establishment cannot accommodate for all of them.
"… Go. I'll take care of the body," The thief looks to him. Meri gives a small wail. Alfyn nods and lets down his end of the body before running into the tavern.
"Tally ho!"
The thief and dancer turn at the sound of the familiar voice. Sure enough, Sadiq trots up to them, clothes and polearm bloody. Any wounds he has do not seem to be bothering him as he has a big silly grin on. Behind him, two guards follow.
"Sadiq…" Primrose lets out a small sigh of relief.
"I had a nice bath! It was a bit cold…" The old man scratches his beard.
The two guards behind him speak up, "Uh, are you his companions?"
"… What did he do…" Therion sighs wearily, expecting no less than a goofy felony committed.
"He was a complete beast!" One of the two guards says a bit breathlessly, "I haven't seen a man fight like that … since I met Sir Berg! I daresay he nearly singlehandedly helped us fend off the bandits higher up the mountain!"
"Aye, and he was swift to come at the first bell's toll… I owe him my life," The other guard nods, "Be you his companions? Twas good luck you were here, I must say…"
"Not for us," Therion coughs.
"Well, erm, we shall attend to our duties…"
"Wait," Primrose calls to the guards and turns Meri towards them, "This little one… her father…"
"Waah…" The girl sobs, wiping at her eyes in futility, "F… Father…."
"By the gods, Meri?" One guard kneels before the crying child and tries to soothe her. The other one looks to Primrose gravely, "So… Roger…"
He needn't finish. Primrose's slight shake of the head tells him all he needs to know.
"… We will take her to her aunt, Cecily. She lives a bit closer to the pastures, away from the fringes."
Primrose nods. She watches as the guards take Meri away. The one soothing her picks her up and gently pats her back as they go. Sadiq helps Therion take the body to a nearby pile started for sorting the cadavers which will be carted to be buried in the local graveyard once day comes. The thief glances at the dancer who just stands there. He points to her wound.
"… You should get that treated."
She does not answer for a bit. Then she absentmindedly nods and turns to go into the chaotic tavern temporarily turned into a medical tent. The thief sighs before going in after her, slightly dragging Sadiq along behind him.
By the time Cobbleston had settled down, everyone was exhausted hours later. Alfyn and Trevor had only just finished treating all the wounded, who were to be moved to the guard's barracks, which were already overflowing. The civilians came together to help house others for the night.
"I gotta help clean up a bit ok, guys?" Alfyn looks to the rest of the party, "I'll see you guys back at the inn?"
Therion nods. Primrose lightly touches her bandaged shoulder and nods. Sadiq stares off into space, his wounds treated as well.
"If it itches, lemme know, ok Prim?"
"I will… thank you, Alfyn…" She says, voice a bit hollow.
The dancer, thief and the old man take their leave. The night outside has quieted somewhat. Townspeople quietly weep over their dead outside and try to recoup the broken parts of Cobbleston. Primrose looks away as she starts back up for the inn. The thief is silent as he follows. What could he even say? When they reach the inn, the innkeeper averts his eyes and avoids even looking at them as they pass to their room.
Primrose, with her shoulder treated, sits against the wall on the bed in the inn. The thief and old man enter after. Therion glances at the dancer's silent form a bit uncomfortably before sighing and shutting the door behind him, locking it. He goes to sit in the corner of the room wordlessly. Sadiq stands and stares around for a bit, like a child lost in awe. Then he curls up at the foot of the bed and goes to sleep shortly.
The thief keeps a slight eye on the dancer, ears alert. He hears not even so much as a sniffle from her. Instead, the air just feels heavy. Without so much as a grunt, he turns away from her, facing the corner, and closes his eyes, waiting for morning.
…
Meanwhile, Alfyn cleans up their ad hoc base of operations with Trevor; helping Noelle and the tavern keeper wipe up the blood, throw out the broken arrows, and wash the bloody rags. Some leftover guards loiter for a cold one before turning in after a crazy night. The barmaid has lost her garrulous manner, now looking a bit shaken as she cleans alongside Alfyn.
"Aw gee, Alf- er, Alfyn," Noelle sighs, "You were really…"
"Hehe, Alf is fine!" He grins at her, "How're you holdin' up there?"
"I… It's never been this bad… H… I don't think I could stomach this…"
"… We're about done here," He puts a firm hand on her shoulder, "I'll finish. You go hit the hay ok? And I'll see ya in the morn?"
"…I-if you insist… thank you… Alf," Noelle blushes slightly as she sighs and stands to turn in for the night.
Among the guards left, the one named Berg suddenly approaches Alfyn when he hands the last of the buckets back to the bartender. Alfyn had heard some guards call him sir, so he must be important or something.
"Uh, hiya. Can I help ya?" Alfyn looks up to the taller man.
"You have helped us greatly in a time of need, wandering apothecary. I merely wish to extend my thanks for saving many of my men."
"Aw shucks, I jus' couldn't sit by an' watch y'all in a bind!" Alfyn chuckles and wipes his bloody hands on his vest, "So, yer the guard captain around here right, mister…"
"Please, call me Berg," He extends a calloused hand to the apothecary and the two share a firm shake, "And no, I am merely one of the guardsmen. It is by the blessing of Brand you happened to be here in such a time of need."
"Well I ain't no godsend or whatever. I'm jus' me, Alfyn!" Alfyn looks around a bit, "Just the right place at the right time I guess. An' I'm glad t' help! Those bandits seem like bad business!"
"Aye. They have been an accursed plague these last few months. I think it was the winter what depleted their stock… as well as the monsters…" Berg blinks slowly in thought, "We have reason to believe their den to be in one of the many caves nearby. It may be nigh time to strike and drive them away once and for all."
"Hm! That sounds like a plan…!"
"I must ask, wandering apothecary. Would you be willing to stay with us and treat the men? Trevor had great praise for your skill and I would be willing to pay you-"
"Say no more! And save your money!" Alfyn grins, "Ya seem like you guys really can use an apothecary on hand! I can't just leave knowin' that!"
Berg balks a bit, "But… sure you must need some sort of compensation for your time waylaid here…"
Alfyn shakes his head, "I'm aimin' t' be the best goshdarn apothecary t' help all o' Orsterra. I ain't got no business takin' coin when I got enough means t' get by! Y' probably need it more than me."
The soldier looks at the young man up and down. He sees the worn vest and slight fray here and there at the hem of the shirt and collar, as well as those old trousers and scuffed shoes. Berg sighs.
"…If you insist. But at least let us waive your stay here at the inn."
"Well, I mean, I pitched in with my friends to pay, really, so it's f-"
"You are a guest here. Allow me to escort you back."
Alfyn sighs and shrugs in resignation, "Well, alright, hehe... I think I'm about done cleaning here…"
"Go get yourself a good night's sleep," The bartender looks to him and adds, "Until noon maybe!"
Alfyn chuckles as he leaves the tavern with Berg. Alfyn avoids looking at the dead.
"If I may ask, who be your companions?" Berg's question is a welcome distraction to the apothecary as they climb the cobbled stairs and walk the bloody streets.
"Ah, Prim, Sadi an' Therion! We're lookin' t' pass t' Rippletide up north!"
"I see. These are dangerous times. It is certainly wise to travel in groups…"
They arrive to the inn. The innkeeper yawns but straightens immediately at the sight of Berg.
"B- Sir Berg!"
"Elias, are you alright?" Berg looks to the skinnier man.
"Oh, a bit frazzled I say but no more scared than I was this morning!" The innkeeper says with a strained smile. He glances to the apothecary, "Is… there something I can help you with?"
"This man is to be a guest of the town watch," Berg gestures at Alfyn, "He has performed invaluably to us tonight and saved many lives."
"Aw shucks…"
"O-Oh, so then… Would you like me to refund their deposit?"
"Yes, please. And they shall be given stay for as long as needed," Berg nods, "I will pay for the incurred expenses."
Hearing that at least someone was paying him, the innkeeper hands over the party's money with little protest. Alfyn takes it and thinks for a minute how much they had each chipped in.
"That will be all for now, Elias. Thank you," Berg now looks to Alfyn, "Rest well. When the battle comes, I am sure you will be exhausted once more."
"Ehehe, well, good night to you too…!"
Alfyn waves as the other man leaves. Then he heads to go to their room for a well-earned rest.
…
Father…
I see him again, lying there in a pool of blood. There's so much… it doesn't absorb all into the carpet at once… Why… Why did this…
I couldn't protect you… I couldn't do anything…
It's so similar, seeing Meri's father like that. That familiar helplessness. I was utterly paralyzed. Even as I felt my blade cut into the throats of those useless bandits… I think I might have thought that. I might have known from the body's form, its limpness, the chest not moving…
Father forgive me…
You might have hoped that I would move on and perhaps pursue things more befitting your heir. But these … happenings in the world… They serve only to remind me of what I lost. I can never move on from that loss. I … don't wish it on others either... I felt that rage bubbling up again when Alfyn said he was gone... I wanted to explode and hunt those brigands down. It was a bit frightening, how much I did not care if I harmed others to do it...
That's right… I'll carve my own way to Hell if that is what it will take to avenge you. I couldn't save you… so this will be… my atonement. I-
The door opens to the room suddenly. It was not particularly loud, but I was barely under in sleep. I see Alfyn there at the door. He enters lightly closes and locks the door behind himself. With a sigh, he goes to sit down by the wall. He looks rather tired.
"Hoo boy…"
"We were about to send out a search party for you," Therion speaks from his corner. I had an inkling that he was not asleep.
"Ehehe, ya should sleep, Therion…" Alfyn yawns, "I am so wiped out… But! I gotta check on Prim and Sadi first-"
"Dammit, Alfyn, do it in the morning," The thief growls. It is a rather cute gesture of his. Like a noise made by a stray cat.
"Uhn… Okay…" Alfyn yawns again and seems to notice something in his hand, "Ah, Therion, they refunded our room p-"
"In. The. Morning. Go to sleep," Therion sighs wearily, not turning to look at Alfyn.
"Well, don't get mad when I… tell ya… 'morrow then… …zzz…" Alfyn drifts off, fatigue getting the best of him.
Therion scoffs and mutters "finally."
I sigh inwardly and try returning to sleep. This time there is no dream. Just a hollowness in the dark. It is strangely appropriate. Far away I hear words spoken, from voices I recognize. But try as I might to reach, I know they are gone forever… just their echoes are left in my heart.
"Primrose… My rose… Beautiful flower…"