Therion's fever broke at last a few hours ago. Alfyn had been working like a dog, unwilling to leave his side. The others went out to get food. Alfyn told Ophilia not to worry and to go out, instead of being cooped up with him.
"After all, ya gotta see more of the place outside yer church, right?" Alfyn gave a tired smile.
Primrose made sure Alfyn promises to rest if needed. They would be bringing him takeout food afterwards from the local pub. After a day of taking care of the thief and arguing in front of a board of fossilized academics, some grog would be nice. Therese unfortunately could not attend, though Cyrus and the others made sure to praise her for her performance before the Academy board. The girl returned to her home at around late afternoon, but not before she made Cyrus promise he would see her before he was to leave Atlasdam once more.
"Phew..." Alfyn sits down by the beside of the thief. He gives a small, tired smile and lightly holds Therion's limp hand. The thief's skin is lukewarm.
It wasn't the first time Alfyn had undressed Therion. The apothecary had treated Therion and Prim numerous times. He always felt a bit more nervous treating Prim, though, probably because he knew her history a bit. It felt like he shouldn't be touching her so liberally.
Therion, on the other hand... The thief had been averse to his touch as well at first. Yet, Alfyn didn't really mind his warnings, for some reason. He felt the thief needed a hug or a pat on the back a lot, and he was just too stubborn to admit it. It wasn't like he knew why, though, the thief was so averse to touching... but that seems to be less of an issue these days. It honestly felt kind of nice...
"It's like we were all finally getting to understand ya," Alfyn chuckles softly, "Ya were grumpy about it, but ya were enjoying yerself too, weren't ya?"
He rubs his thumb gently on that hand. Therion doesn't stir, merely breathing with a soft rasp.
Alfyn gets up and wipes at the thief's lips a little, removing any residual blood. The apothecary momentarily remembers the taste of the thief's blood in his mouth when he needed to clear Therion's airways. His hand squeezes the wet rag tightly.
"..."
He does another check on the bandages swaddling Therion's chest and upper abdomen. The thief's chest moves as he breathes, which is good. It's inflating normally, and his breathing noises aren't obstructed. Ophilia's healing definitely helped with closing the bleeding. Now, barely any blood seeps through. It might also have been the seemingly endless amount of bandages Alfyn kept using and changing for the thief. He would have to get more supplies while they are still in town.
The apothecary remembers H'aanit remarking that the attacker might still be here, too... Alfyn hoped they had thought Therion dead and left. They still had no idea who the attacker was that did this, and why...
Alfyn's expression turns a little wistful and his hand lightly traces along Therion's jaw. The thief's lips part just a little.
"...Ya know you can tell me anything, Therion," Alfyn gives a small simper, "Don't need to pretend like nothing's wrong and run away. We're all friends, ain't we?"
He asked that to someone who can't and would probably never answer even if they were awake. Therion is a guarded person. Even if he had an inkling of kinship... he'd probably never say it... same as his aversion to tactile contact...
For the first time, Alfyn began to wonder why that was.
"I'll ask ya when yer well and up!" The apothecary announces suddenly as he draws the covers back over the thief, "Until then, I'm not letting ya outta my sight!"
The thief breathes softly in response. Alfyn sits down on the floor by the bed and leans back, looking to the thief from the corner of his eye. He chuckles airily. A few minutes pass and he leans down so his forehead touches that of the thief's. The thief feels clammy against his own warm skin. At this proximity, he can see the flickering of Therion's eyes under their lids. It's a faint movement. Alfyn sighs a little through his nose.
"... So, you gotta wake up, alright, Therion?"
…
"So, what's gonna be the next steps with those eggheads?" Tressa asks as the rest of the party all sits around a table in the local tavern.
"Yes, I am curious as well," Ophilia speaks up, but tries to keep the conversation to their table, "Surely they don't intend to let Yvon's deeds go unquestioned?"
"They were receptive to Therese's narrative once she showed her recollection was truthful. They could not shake her easily. Also, Primrose was instrumental in securing the documents. Dare I say, the final nails in the coffin," Cyrus sighs, "The files retrieved from Yvon's personal study revealed a paper trail the board could not deny. Even though Yvon clearly tried to be secretive about it, the truth won at the end of the day."
"Cheers to that," Olberic raises his tankard, "Then we have done well, coming to Atlasdam and revealing such a scheme."
"But what's gonna be done about it?" Tressa asks again, a bit louder this time, "The guy's dead and the other lady's on the run. Are they gonna send some people after her or not?"
"Well, er... Lucia could well be beyond the King's reach at this point, dear Tressa..." Cyrus rubs his chin, "It is unfortunate... but any search must therefore tread carefully..."
"It helps just to have her bounty posted everywhere, I'm sure," Primrose sips from her stein of mead, "It should make it harder for her to keep running unnoticed."
"Well, perhaps... One can't use disguises forever... I think," Cyrus seems to ponder a little.
"They aren't actually at that stage of action, though," Primrose adds, "They said they would be conducting some investigation into it. An internal one."
"That sounds like an excuse, I daresay," Simeon folds his arms, "Most likely they want to mitigate damages to the Academy, I think!"
"That does sound about right," Tressa sighs, chin resting on the table.
H'aanit looks a bit lost amid the conversation about something so confusing. She looks around the tavern idly, just keeping her senses alert. Linde sort of snuck in, not being totally allowed. The big cat rests at H'aanit's feet, making sure not to let her tail get stepped on.
"Tis a process," Cyrus explains, "These new accusations are quite grievous, and Yvon was a man of high standing in the institution. As a result, immediately demoting his image would pose ill to the Academy's own... and unfortunately, this may well be a difficult smear to clean. The lives of students, after all, were lost in his mad search for power..."
"What of your position, professor?" Primrose tilts her head a little at Cyrus, "They didn't seem all too receptive to you... and you were in trouble with them a bit, yes?"
"Well, I wouldn't say it that way necessarily..." Cyrus coughs a little, "I had a strained relation with them mainly due to the, erm, near scandal... But now, with Yvon's investigation underway, they are reconsidering my status."
"Oh, that's great!" Ophilia pipes up.
"Mm..." H'aanit says absentmindedly.
"I do hope fruits can be born from this investigation then..." Simeon leans on an elbow on the table, "Although, if that business is resolved... then what is the next step for all of you?"
"Oh, I think we had largely agreed our paths largely cross up the continent's north, to Stillsnow!" Cyrus points out in realization.
"Aye," H'aanit nods, "I musten Grotoff finden..."
"This hermitic mystic sounds interesting," Olberic nods, "I am wondering if she might have answers that can aid my quest as well..."
"I'm just looking for new markets! And I haven't been that far north yet, so why not?" Tressa grins eagerly.
"I am... interested in what some fur traders mentioned lies up north," Primrose says simply and then looks to Cyrus, "What about you, professor?"
"Well, I do agree that the investigation may be a bit... lacking in speed. I am not sure the board grasps the gravity of the situation, should Lucia succeed in whatever she intends with the horrendous magic in the stolen tome. I wish to take action myself," Cyrus folds his arms pensively, "Unfortunately, I do not have any definitive leads on her location... So it may be prudent of me as well to seek this Grotoff figure..."
"I wouldn't hold my breath about people like that," Primrose shrugs, "They can often be disappointing quacks, sad to say."
"And you're just following Prim, right, Simeon?" Tressa looks to the playwright.
"Oh, of course!" Simeon smiles, "But... what of your other two companions? Alfyn and Therion? Oh, and also, the fair cleric here as well!"
"Alfyn is content to go where ills may be..." Primrose thinks a second, "But you do have a point, Simeon. We should see what he and Therion intend to do."
"Hmph! Therion wants to go on his own, like he announced!" Tressa huffs, "Ungrateful ass..."
"Tressa..." Ophilia smiles nervously.
"Thinken I doeth his words weren insincere," H'aanit scoffs, "Tis Linde's sentiment."
"Well, Therion will not be moving anywhere as is... I wonder if we should consider leaving him here and going our way if he desires to part ways," Olberic rubs his chin.
"Well, uh, maybe we can afford to wait a bit... I would hate to have him be left behind if it wasn't his true intention," Ophilia nods, "Oh, uh, if that's alright with everyone, that is."
Primrose raises an eyebrow at the cleric, "And what about you, dear? You don't have a Kindling to attend so far up north. And you've already lit the Flamesgrace flame."
"... Uh, well, yes... I should be going on my way to the Riverlands now, that is true..." Ophilia scratches her cheek a bit sheepishly, "I … just thought that... maybe I could take a scenic route?"
Primrose has to resist full-on laughter. A puff of air escapes her lips.
"Hey, that's a great idea! Otherwise, you'd be stuck in that church all your life!" Tressa chuckles, "Better to get a trip outta it with some detours while you can!"
"That is poor advice, Tressa..." Olberic looks to the merchant a bit like a scolding parent.
"Thou shouldst goeth where thou willst," H'aanit pats Ophilia's hand, "Thou hath much left to see, so thou oughten doeth so."
Simeon lets out a small sigh, almost of resigned amusement, "It is an unfortunate tradeoff between duty and desire. A conundrum indeed! Which to follow? Who to be the master? Alas!"
"Don't make it weird, dude," Tressa looks at Simeon like he's a swooning maiden.
Ophilia chuckles as her face reddens a little, "I mean... I have... It has been very enjoyable adventuring with you all and seeing all these new things...!"
"Why, the feeling is mutual, Ophilia. I must say, it has been a dangerous and still enjoyable experience to travel with you all. I daresay that the company is what makes the travel more worth it," Cyrus pipes up.
"Hmm. Tis true," Olberic thinks back to his days in the army, where they would sing songs along the road to lift their spirits on patrol, "But still. Ophilia, you do have a duty as the Flamebearer. And so you mustn't shirk it."
"I won't!" Ophilia says defensively, "After the Frostlands, I think it should be no problem if I go to Saintsbridge then..."
"Hmm," Primrose finishes her drink.
"Well, I mean, I'm not against staying a bit in the big city," Tressa shrugs, "It's kinda like being back home a bit, with the markets and whatnot!"
"Ah, in that case, we must also get you a proper crash course while we are here!" A virtual lightbulb appears on Cyrus' head, "As a proper Atlasdam student, you must also get robes!"
"Wait, what? Atlasdam student?" Tressa looks at Cyrus like he grew an extra eye, "Don't lump me there, Cyrus! I'm letting ya teach me so don't try and sell me some stupid robe!"
"I assure you that it is far from stupid! It is a high mark of honor as a scholar and an arcane practitioner!" Cyrus argues, "I myself will be re-integrating myself with the school body a little, before I make a formal announcement for sabbatical."
"A formal one?" Simeon raises an eyebrow.
"Yes, ehe, my previous leave was strongly suggested... but now, I have reason to go out and pursue Lucia!" Cyrus clenches a fist passionately, "She cannot be permitted to do as she pleases with such dangerous knowledge in her possession!"
Ophilia notices the huntress look slightly uncomfortable at the mention of staying in the city for a bit longer. She tilts her head and tries to catch H'aanit's gaze.
"What is it?" Ophilia asks.
The huntress doesn't answer immediately, looking a bit ashamed. H'aanit sighs, "I doth not... liken staying in such a crowded place..."
"Ah, yes, you are one with the forest, for sure..." Primrose claps her hands lightly, "Well, this is a good opportunity then for you to walk among more men! In Quarrycrest, you were merely going through the sewers and in Stonegard you were just hiking through the forests!"
"I wouldn't equate either of those to idyllic choices..." Cyrus starts.
"So, you might benefit from staying a bit," Primrose talks over him, "It's worth a shot, isn't it?"
"The hunters are such a noble tradition," Simeon muses, "So withdrawn from the perceived impurities and excess of civilization, devoted to the wild hunt and nature's merciless cycles of life and death!"
"Sounds like a great getaway," Tressa smiles smugly, "Also a chance to restock inventory, get some more sales..."
"And practice your magic!" Cyrus interjects.
"I don't suppose this city is very apt to train with the sword," Olberic sighs.
"On the contrary! We do have training grounds for physical activities!" Cyrus offers, "You all are my guests, and so I will see to it that you can use the facilities as needed! It is true, though, that many a student does not take up the sword. We do specialize in the scholarly and arcane side of things..."
"That is most generous of you," Primrose smiles.
H'aanit perks up at the mention of this and looks to the warrior, "Joinen thee I shallen, then."
"Ooh, ooh! Winter wear is another thing we gotta rethink!" Tressa pipes up, "You guys kept your coats from last time, right? Oh, and we got Simeon here now, too..."
"Ah, yes... the trek through snows, erm..." Simeon looks down at his poor choice of footwear, "I'm afraid I was not equipped for travel in that kind of terrain, haha..."
"To be honest, Primrose isn't either," Tressa shrugs.
"This time, we'll heading deeper into the Frostlands so please do consider warmer clothing!" Ophilia urges, "It'd be awful to get sick in the snows!"
Olberic nods, "Duly noted... I do believe I still have my insulation coat for wearing under my armor..."
"Scholar robes are very well insulated," Cyrus says as-a-matter-of-factly.
"Your sales pitch could use some work," Tressa snickers.
…
That night, Therion wakes up with a deep gasp and cold sweat. He dreamt he couldn't breathe. It wasn't clear exactly why in the dream... but it felt like someone was drowning him. As he pants in bed, he slowly realizes it was just a dream... and he's now awake. His throat is dry, and his mouth feels like it's full of sand. His lips are gummy. It's dark. Where is he? Why can he feel himself lying down in a bed? His first instinct is to try and move, get his bearings. A shot of pain immediately stifles his efforts, making him grunt involuntarily into the dark. Well, at least he's not tied down or anything...
The pain helps him remember the last moments he was conscious. Oh, right... he was taken unawares, wasn't he... and he took a bad hit from whoever that assassin was...
His head is swimming from the dull, aching pain radiating through his torso. He feels sick.
"Mh... ng..." He twitches, trying to make his stupid tongue work. Breathing hurts. How long had he been out? Too long, probably...
He's a stubborn thief and he tries again to move, this time with his head as well. When he swivels a bit, he grasps for the edge of the bed, pulling the sheets. That wasn't the brightest idea, as a burst of nausea hits him like a wave. Fluid gurgles up his throat, tasting both bloody and bitter.
"Gh-!" He gags as the stuff dribbles out of his lips and stings the back of his nose. Not expecting that, he inadvertently tries to cough and ends up inhaling some of the fluid. Now the sting becomes a burn and spreads down into his chest.
He makes a desperate, reflexive gasp and only gets more of the stuff into his lungs. He can't breathe. His lips are moving, but he doesn't feel any air past that sickening taste in his mouth. He feels his body heaving despite the pain in his efforts to draw breath. It's like he can't control his body to move properly, to turn. All he can do is spasm helplessly on his back.
His lungs burn. He's feeling the panic rise, and it's not helping. He's going to pass out at this rate...
"Therion...?!"
As he's choking on his own bile, Therion hears that voice. The dancer? In the dark, her reddish eyes appear like small lights. There are more sounds of movement in the dark around as the thief convulses, vision hazy.
"Alfyn! Wake up!" Primrose says with an obvious note of urgency in her voice to rouse the apothecary. She had been lightly dozing before she woke and was merely observing the room. Therion's breathing had been growing progressively raspier. To her horror, the thief's body then started convulsing and an unnerving gargling sound rises from him. It reminded her of Helgenish's breath after she cut his throat.
"Unh- huh?" Alfyn, who had slipped into slumber, sits up straight like cold water had been thrown on him, "Wh-what-"
"It's Therion. Something's..." Primrose hurriedly gestures. She still does try to keep a lowered voice. Some of their companions stir.
"Huh?" Alfyn looks to Therion in shock, "THERION...!"
He's a bit louder. Tressa jolts up almost immediately from her sleeping bag.
"Whuh? Huh? We... what happened?" The merchant looks around, eyes still half asleep.
"Prim, get me a light..."
Alfyn quickly assesses the situation and has Primrose support the bandaging on the thief's tender wounds. The apothecary then manages to turn Therion on his side so the thief can vomit without swallowing it. Bile and some blood stain the edge of the bed as it dribbles out of Therion's mouth. He still makes choking sounds.
"Sorry about this, Therion...!" Alfyn apologizes first before making a quick strike on the thief's back, right by the shoulder blades. Therion expels whatever he inhaled earlier while lying on his back. The thief coughs and wheezes weakly, shaking like a newborn lamb.
"Ugh... guh..." The thief feels tears rise to his eye now at the taste in his mouth and delicious air finally entering his body. His world is still a blur, though, and he feels an incessant chill that makes him tremble nonstop. Alfyn's hand holds him tight.
"You're alright, Therion... you're alright..." Alfyn whispers in an assuring tone as he rubs the thief's back, "Prim, could ya hand me that rag..."
"Whatever the heavens?" Simeon looks up from his slumber and yawns, "Are we being sieged? Is the city..."
"Go back to sleep, Simeon," Primrose sighs as she hands Alfyn what he needs.
"Uh... Is it time to … wipe the sills already...?" Ophilia rouses, obviously also still somewhat in dreamland. At this rate, everyone is waking up. As the cleric moves, the huntress twitches. The large cat at her feet also immediately rears her head and blinks a few times, twitching her whiskers.
"Good news, Therion's awake!" Alfyn announces in a hushed but happy voice to all the people waking.
Therion trembles, still coughing at the sting and taste of bile staining the back of his throat as his breathing returns to some semblance of normal. He feels Alfyn's warm hands on him and hears that idiot's voice... and he knew he was safe.
So, he passes out again.
…
After the excitement of last night, Ophilia helps Alfyn clean up and keep Therion comfortable. The thief seems to be sleeping better after that rude awakening.
"It might've just been his body fluids in the gut and near the lung," Alfyn hypothesizes, "They can sorta swell up and get uncomfortable when not drained... I guess a bit of it was internal..."
The apothecary looks relieved and also very tired from all this. But he doesn't really let the latter show.
They had agreed to allow Therion to recuperate and so take the opportunity to peruse Atlasdam a bit more. Tressa grumbles a bit as she goes to the local non-Academy general store. There are obviously discounts tailored to students more. She finds also, like with many cities, specialized shops versus general ones. You can buy specific dresses and capes rather than general clothing. There are also apothecary shops, even, and actual weapon shops not conjoined with a smithy.
"Hmm... Alf said he needed to restock, right?" Tressa looks to Olberic. The warrior was accompanying her for safety's sake. While Therion's attack may have been targeted towards him, the party nonetheless decided it might be wise to not walk around alone.
"Aye, he had used much of his stores on the road. A dedicated store like this would be good for him to restock," Olberic rubs his chin, "Unfortunately, I am a poor eye for this kind of thing. And Alfyn himself is unfortunately too occupied watching over Therion to come here to look around."
"This is where merchant expertise comes in," Tressa says with a smug smile as she goes to walk in, "Hi!"
The apothecary, a wiry old man, is accompanied by a tall, clean-shaven youth behind the counter. Olberic notes there is an Atlasdam Academy cape hanging on the wall behind them along with a certain satchel. The shop itself is stuffed to the brim with various smells of heady, earthy herbs. The warrior would never be able to name them all.
"Why hello, lil' lady," The apothecary smiles, wrinkling the skin around his eyes, "How can we help ya today?"
"You guys sell bandages?" Tressa walks over, "I just gotta get some of the basic first aid stuff."
"First aid, hm? Well, you might also want some essences to go with that. They come in a set, you know? Plum, grape, and pomegranate. A simple must have."
"Oh yeah?" Tressa raises an eyebrow, "How much would that all be?"
"Well, that's just..." The youth takes out an abacus and clicks a few units to move them, "Just fifty-three leaves. That's a very fair price, I assure you."
"Hold it, buster," Tressa says brusquely, "I don't even know what they do! Do you really need them? I know an apothecary or two and I never saw them use this stuff."
"Run-of-the-mill apothecaries can only handle small problems. Big wounds could fester in the amount of time given to heal. Grape essence will simulate the wound closing right up! Plum essence relieves fatigue and a myriad of other symptoms like muscle weakness. And pomegranate, well, you at least know the stories about that legendary fruit, right?" The apothecary leans over the counter, giving Tressa a wink.
"Yeah, I know the trinity," Tressa shrugs, "I just don't know about paying fifty leaves for three bottles of that size."
"A little essence goes a long way."
"I'll give ya thirty. Over half," Tressa says briskly.
The youth frowns, "Fifty-three is a perfectly reasonable price! At most, we can lower it to fifty...!"
Olberic steps a bit closer behind Tressa as a reminder both to the merchant and the storekeepers.
"At most, I can pay forty," Tressa folds her arms, "Take it or leave it."
The youth looks about to shout when the apothecary speaks up, "Forty-three, then?"
Tressa shrugs and nods, "Alright, fine."
Olberic blinks as Tressa hands over the money and collects the three bottles of essence and some rolls of bandages. She had just saved ten leaves with a few words.
As they leave, he can hear the apothecary telling the youth about better mannerisms when dealing with customers. The youth must be a student interning in the shop, maybe...
"Hehehe, see?" Tressa turns and looks to Olberic smugly, "You let anyone talk up their stuff and they'll tell exactly that. Then, you're free to pick out the truth and what sounds too good to be true!"
Olberic sighs, "I don't think I could ever do that..."
"Ehh, well, you definitely wouldn't reach my level, but..." Tressa chuckles, "Some practice always helps!"
She looks back to some shops nearby, "Alright, some more shopping... lay of the land... and then we can sell, and I'll get back to Alf with the stuff by the end of the day!"
Olberic sighs lightly at the busy itinerary. They see Ophilia as they pass by the local church for the Flame. The warrior waves to the cleric.
"Hail, Ophilia."
"O-oh! Berg, Tressa!" Ophilia curtsies, "Have you both been perusing the city?"
"Yeah, more or less," Tressa nods, "What are you up to, Ophilia?"
"... Well, I just thought I would clear my doubts to a fellow sister of the church," Ophilia smiles as she glances back at the open doors of the chapel, "I do not think I am necessarily making the wrong choice in taking a detour."
"Hmm... If that is what you seek, then so be it," Olberic nods, "Better that than to end up disillusioned due to dissatisfaction."
"I mean, shortest path isn't wrong," Tressa shrugs, "Anyway, we're off on another exciting day! Wanna come with?"
"Eh? Me?" Ophilia blinks in surprise. Olberic is also surprised.
"Yeah, if a sister of the Flame is there, I'm sure my wares would catch a few more eyes!" Tressa says with a wide grin.
…
Primrose walks quietly with H'aanit at her side and Linde close behind. She'd sent Simeon off to entertain Cyrus, figuring they could share their love of literature and academia together. Ophilia had gone off on her own for once, saying H'aanit should travel as she pleases. She and the huntress reach a high portion of the city's cobbled stone walkways that round near some roofs on a lower level.
"Hmm..." H'aanit narrows her eyes.
"What is it?" Primrose smiles and teases, "See someone you fancy?"
H'aanit turns to her with a blank expression. The dancer assures her that it was a joke.
"... Merely thinketh I was, that one mighten useth the roofs here... and tis not far from where we had Therion founde," The huntress looks about with a focused eye.
"My, you're still thinking on that?" Primrose blinks, "That really bothered you, hm?"
"An enemy doth lyen here, possibly. Tis no different from hunten. One musten always stayeth vigilant," H'aanit says simply.
"Well, that is true... but you seem to think many things are like a hunt, don't you?" Primrose leans on the stone with her elbow, looking out with H'aanit, "It makes you seem very tense."
"... Mine master hath said I am oft too serious. But I doth not understanden how that can be," H'aanit says without much consideration, "When tis a hunt, one must exert all one's senses into it, lest they lacken focus."
"I think what your master meant is probably to focus on other things," The dancer laughs, "Like something less serious. Haven't you ever just fancied something frivolous?"
"... Like what?"
Linde covers her face with her paw.
"Well... take men, for example. Like I told you, you don't really understand how humans work. You understand beasts far better. Maybe spend some time getting to know the former?"
"... That doth sounden... difficult."
"Hmm, are you afraid to try?" Primrose turns her body so she leans back on the stone border and faces H'aanit, "You seem very wary of humans."
H'aanit's green eyes seem to consider something before she nods, "... Aye. Man be more cunning than many a beast. See'n I have many horrors at the hands of man now... Cruelties that nature hath not fathomed."
"Well, we can agree to disagree there," Primrose thinks back to the unpleasant memory of what happened to Fiona back in Clearbrook, "But I mean, it's not like you live only with beasts. S'warkii is a place of man."
"Nay. S'warkii is a hunter's land. We taken and returneth to nature as we doth take. One cannot simply take without given... like in such a city," H'aanit looks at the nearby buildings like a stranger, "Tis not nature's in the slightest. Humans hath driven all nature away here. They hath much taken..."
"... Ufufufu, you sound like a bitter, spurned lover. Just a little," Primrose giggles.
H'aanit raises an eyebrow at the dancer's comment. Primrose straight-up laughs at the huntress' expression. Even H'aanit didn't know what face she was making. To the dancer, it was an uncharacteristic mix of disbelief and exasperation.
"Sorry, sorry..." Primrose tries to be genuine as she's still laughing, "You just seemed so serious and yet... pfft..."
"..." H'aanit doesn't seem too pleased at that response and sighs, "The one who hath Therion attacked … shouldst they learn of his survival, they willen striken again."
"Well, assuming they haven't already skipped town, yes," Primrose finally sobers a bit and wipes her eye, "But you and Olberic will be here to protect us. And I know you're not a warrior to scoff at."
Linde sort of just smirks a bit at H'aanit. The huntress doesn't notice.
A strong wind suddenly blows. Primrose's brown hair flutters in wavy strands and she braces a little with a hand to her head. For a second, her footing seems to slip. H'aanit immediately grabs her by the wrist and pulls her close, away from the ledge. Primrose finds herself pressed against those furs hanging in front of the deerskin shirt over H'aanit's chest. Her dainty fingers grasp reflexively on the soft furs.
"Aren thou alright?" H'aanit asks seriously.
"... I'll be fine in a moment," Primrose enjoys the contact with the taller woman, "Your furs are... very soft."
"...!" H'aanit hesitates in pulling the dancer off, "... They aren sturdy. They hath lasted me long days and nights."
"Mm..." The dancer buries her nose in the scent of the huntress before reluctantly pulling off, "Well, thank you. For that."
H'aanit looks into the dancer's eyes with her own. Primrose's eyes are a dark brown, while H'aanit's are a gray-green. Before the huntress can say or act, the dancer's hands cup her cheeks.
"...!" H'aanit freezes. The words she might have thought to say are nowhere to be found. Primrose is … so close...
Linde looks up with slight alarm at the development. Primrose's face holds its position a mere inch or so from H'aanit's, with their nose and lips being even closer. The dancer feels the warmth on the huntress' cheeks under her hands. Softly, she chuckles and lets go.
"Hehehe... You're more eager than I thought you would be..." The dancer giggles.
H'aanit blinks and then pouts indignantly at the dancer having a laugh at her expense, "W-what weren that about...?!"
"Oh, don't take offense. I was merely showing you your inexperience up close," Primrose winks, "Gestures like those are common weapons to ensnare a fair maiden... that's something you may have trouble with."
H'aanit rubs her own cheeks with the back of her hands and grumbles slightly. She looks to see Linde laughing at her and frowns, "Quiet thou..."
"You are a very beautiful person, H'aanit," Primrose says candidly, taking the huntress unawares, "And it would be a shame if someone were to take advantage of you for that beauty. That's why I think it's worth a leaf or two to learn the ways of man... so you can be prepared."
The huntress realizes the warmth in her cheeks isn't going away. If anything, Primrose's words made it worse. She looks a bit hesitantly to the dancer, "... Thou... thou art another... that callen me beautiful... though thou art more fair by far."
"Oh? I wasn't sure you'd noticed," Primrose tosses a lock of hair over her shoulder nonchalantly, "After all... you do spend an awful lot of time just staring at that cleric, don't you?"
Again, Linde laughs. H'aanit frowns and scratches her head.
"... Tis true," She admits. She had indeed often been staring off at Ophilia when they were resting and in general downtime. Exactly why...
"... Anyway, let's look around some more," Primrose goes to loop an arm around H'aanit's elbow, "You said you were looking for some items before we have to set off for Stillsnow, right?"
"Ah, indeed..." H'aanit is half dragged along as Primrose steers. Linde follows behind closely.
…
"Hmm... Ah, here we are!"
Cyrus, Mercedes, and Simeon are looking around the library of Atlasdam while they were taking their rest in the city. The scholar thought it might be productive to look up more on routes to Stillsnow, as well as the town itself.
"Intriguing... Stillsnow was once the outer city of the Frostlands. At some point, it was even within the purview of the northern reach of the territories ruled by Tytos the Hero..." Cyrus rubs his chin, "However, the town itself lacked much in terms of developmental potential... and it remains to this day nothing much more than a relative hamlet. It was never bestowed with something like a cathedral in Emberglow nor Flamesgrace..."
"Ah... Yes, Tytos the hero..." Simeon says the name with something strange in his tone. It is too momentary for Mercedes and Cyrus to notice.
"I'm not seeing anything on a Susanna Grotoff... Are you sure your friends aren't going off on some goose chase?" Mercedes looks up from her book.
"I daresay not. I trust Therese's direction on this," Cyrus nods affirmatively, "She mentioned it was from interviews done with scholars..."
"Therese isn't exactly... Well, she's a nice girl, but studies aren't really her forte," Mercedes muses, "She often looks to be vacantly thinking of other things than focusing on her books."
"Mercedes, I assure you that she is a fine student," The scholar huffs.
"Hmm, I may have found something here," Simeon holds up a thin and disheveled looking collection of pages. It's a poorly bound book, if one calls it that.
"Oh, it does look like a field journal from the ethnographies that staff conducted. We keep a record of them through all the years," Mercedes blinks.
"Let us see, shall we..." Cyrus and Mercedes now look over as Simeon opens the book.
Inside, they find the notes of a professor-hopeful named Ronald who studied at the Academy. As part of his field research, he went to Stillsnow around ten years ago and wrote about the eccentric people he could find. Cyrus immediately espies the name "Susanna Grotoff" among those listed.
"Eureka!" Cyrus exclaims.
Several other people in the library turn their heads in annoyance at their direction. Mercedes nervously smiles and thumps Cyrus on the head.
Ronald's account goes on to describe Susanna as a very difficult woman "with the most unwelcoming face." He warns of a young man that could not have been older than a teenager, who had the strength of three men. Ronald recalls that he was picked up and thrown into the snow by such a person. Susanna referred to them as "Alaic."
"'The reason for her foul mood is something I cannot put my finger on. She is extremely secretive, and yet I can tell she is far wiser than she would let on. I heard stories of people who were given advice by her, and these did indeed bear fruit. They were typically for small things like lost household items and an occasional question of marital fidelity.'"
"Hmm... That sounds... suspect, to say the least," Mercedes speaks up now, "She sounds a bit like a swindler. You know, those kinds who claim to divine fortunes?"
"Mayhaps... But H'aanit's master had pointed this person out... I suspect for good reason? Though... I'm not too sure myself about H'aanit's master, either..." Cyrus holds his chin pensively. H'aanit herself had seemed to
"It's the main lead we have, isn't it?" Simeon sighs, "I think even you and Primrose have some hopes riding on this Grotoff fellow, no?"
"Well, I don't expect her to tell me where Lucia is," Cyrus sighs, "That would be a sheer feat of amazement... much too convenient!"
"It doesn't seem like she's too friendly a person... so you all best keep Cyrus a good distance from her," Mercedes smiles to Simeon as she glances at the rough sketch of a haggard old woman's face, "Lest she scratch out his eyes."
…
The thief woke up again around midday, much to Alfyn's delight. The thief certainly doesn't seem the most enthusiastic upon waking, merely staring almost with the dullness of a corpse up at that familiar, smiling face of relief.
"... Therion!" Alfyn grins widely. He looks a bit sleep-deprived, despite radiating his usual energy.
"... W..." Therion's lips feel dry and cracked as he tries to speak. His throat also feels parched. At least he wasn't choking.
Alfyn produces a small chunk of ice in his hand with his magic. He lets Therion suck off of that, which is a good replacement for water on its own. For someone who can't sit up, it's better not to just drink water so callously. Therion sucks gingerly at that cold moisture against his lips and sighs when he's done.
"Heh, how's the favorite patient feeling?" Alfyn chuckles, bringing out his good old bedside manner.
"W... Where... are we..." Therion shifts slightly, glad not to be vomiting and choking this time around. The nausea feels like it has subsided for now. He still can't sit up, though, and a large part of his chest and back still hurt all the way through.
"Oh, uhh, well, we're still in Atlasdam," Alfyn scratches his head, "Everyone thought we oughta give ya a chance to rest, since ya were in pretty bad shape when we found ya!"
"How generous," The thief grumbles sarcastically. He's honestly partly surprised, partly not.
"Ehehe... So, how are we feeling, though?" The persistent apothecary asks again, "Pain? Any migraine?"
"... Just my … ugh..." Therion winces as he can't even touch near where he was stabbed. He can see the cleaned bandages on his chest. The wound must be deep, since pain radiates through his entire body.
"Ah, yeah... It went through from your back, angled up the waist towards your ribs. You lost a lotta blood..." Alfyn says with some obvious worry despite his smile, "I'm glad ya hung on fine, though. Heh..."
Therion can't look the other man in the eye really and turns his eye away at those sappy words. A breath escapes his lips.
"... Why didn't you guys just … leave me alone..." The thief mumbles. There is a note of annoyance and also derision hidden under his seemingly harmless question.
"Huh? And leave ya t' die? Why'd we do that?" Alfyn blinks and frowns, "Yer our friend, Therion."
"I told you," Therion says slowly, trying not to aggravate himself, "I was done with you guys..."
Why did these idiots bother saving and even waiting for him? It was something... admittedly humiliating to the thief. One never wants to be a burden in this profession. His hand grips the sheets a little.
"... Yeah, so ya did. But that's fine!" Alfyn smiles anyway, "Yer our friend, and we don't just leave someone bleeding out to die on the bricks!"
Oh, right, this annoying doctor attitude of his. There's no fighting with the idiot and his heart of gold. It's just how he is.
"... How long was … I out..." The thief tiredly asks.
"Oh, geez, it's barely been two days...! Not even, really..." Alfyn scratches his cheek, "Everyone's out a bit now. We only just found ya the night before, so you still got a road to recovery, ya hear!"
"And you're completely insistent on staying here?" Therion eyes the apothecary flatly.
"Of course!" Alfyn says confidently, "I can treat you and I want to! I'll be your personal doctor!"
"Why."
"Because! Then you won't end up like that again! Plus, ain't it better to have company like a partner?" Alfyn grins.
Therion's eye widens briefly. Partners again...
Darius wouldn't have waited. If there were loot to be taken, he would have gone for it, whether Therion were there or not. To be honest, any thief would do that, and Therion is no exception. Once upon a time, he might have cared enough to wait for Darius, since they were just so... inseparable. But now, he would just take the money and run, companions be damned. If you needed a helping hand, you just weren't good enough.
And yet, Alfyn says he would stick with him. Even the others opted to remain despite their clear destinations northward.
It's absurd. It shouldn't be happening. And yet it is. Is he supposed to feel grateful for this... for this charity?
"... Idiot..." Therion sighs, "You're completely..."
"I may not know yer reasons, Therion," Alfyn smiles softly, "Like why ya helped Prim, or me... or why ya just suddenly thought ya had to leave us after all... But I'm just sure of one thing and that's that we're friends! We worry for ya! That's why we'll wait for ya!"
Friends, and not partners...
Well, the difference is slim. Friends are like partners in how close they can be... But you can also disregard friends and forget them easier than you did a partner. After all, a partner is... someone that you trust your back to. And the thief had long been short on trust.
However, this apothecary seems to be dispelling some of that typical cynicism that had crusted up over the years. And he's not even trying. It reminds the thief a little of Natalie.
"Anyway, you hungry? I'm sure ya gotta be...! Ah, but you can't have much, since your wound's still tender. So, ya gotta eat right and healthy! I got some rolled oats that ought to do just the trick, along with my trusty herb mix!"
"If I eat another energy ball, I will die," The thief says with flat straightness, not even humor.
"Haha, don't be silly, Therion!" Alfyn chuckles as he rifles through his items, "I've changed up the recipe since we were in the Sunlands! I mixed a different blend of stuff... to take care of cough, fever... you'll like it!"
"Doubt that..." Therion sighs.
"Hehe, you'll be up in no time! And then you can eat and..." Alfyn pauses a second before laughing once, "And then you can go off like ya said ya needed to, right?"
Therion frowns briefly. His "bluff" of heading off on his own...
Well, he was tired of this group, no? He was never going to stay full time with them. Everything just somehow ended up pushing them together like this... but he was never planning to remain with them when he had his own chase to be worrying about...
Then why was he feeling such reluctance now?
He turns his head slightly to watch Alfyn setting up the cookery for the oats. Something feels like it should be said as he listens to the apothecary talking to himself about measurements and stuff... But it never leaves the thief's throat.
…
At the end of their day in Atlasdam, the party returns, even Cyrus, and Alfyn reveals Therion's awakening. It's not the most joy-evoking news, but it is a relief for most of them.
Therion has a short staring contest with Linde, who plops her chin on his bedside at eye level. The cat has a slightly judgmental look on her features.
"... if you have something to say, just say it," Therion says with an unamused eye at the large cat.
"Grrowf," Linde snorts at him.
"She thinken thee foolish," H'aanit scoffs slightly. The slightest expression of amusement dances on the huntress' lips, much to Therion's growing chagrin.
"You seriously almost got yourself killed after your big announcement about striking off on your own. Lame!" Tressa teases.
"Now, now, Tressa, we must be mindful of the injured and their bruised egos," Primrose adds with some snarky smirk as well. Therion is slowly wishing he hadn't woken up.
"... Do you still intend to go forward with your plans alone?" Olberic looks to the thief, being a straight shooter.
"..." The thief doesn't say anything.
"Uh, are you …" Ophilia pipes up, to the surprise of everyone else, "Are you in some kind of trouble, Therion? You can tell us... It's clear that... whoever attacked you was quite eager... Was it someone you knew?"
Primrose raises an eyebrow. That certainly would explain the thief's abrupt announcement the night he was attacked...
Olberic doesn't seem surprised.
"... Ahem," Cyrus speaks up now, "The alleyway you all said to have Therion in... the bodies were discovered and identified. They are not of Atlasdam. Among their items were signs that they were affiliated with a crime family known as the Cianno..."
Everyone sort of takes that with some surprise and then all eyes look to Therion.
"Oh my..." Simeon covers his mouth, "Does Therion have some history with something like that...?"
Therion doesn't answer any of their gazes, merely looking away.
"... I mean," Tressa shrugs, "I wouldn't be surprised. Therion's got a habit of sticking his nose in places and getting in trouble."
"Wait, if you got those guys coming for ya... then it's too dangerous for ya to go alone!" Alfyn realizes.
"..." The thief says nothing.
"Alfyn is correct," Olberic nods, "In your current state... you would only be more vulnerable. It would be best if you-"
"... just shut up, okay. You think I don't know that?" Therion growls a little, still faced away.
"Rr, rawwr!" Linde snarls a little.
"Thou art being obstinate," H'aanit says tersely, "Doest thou resent our aid so much?"
The thief grinds his teeth in silence like a child enduring lecture.
"... You do not have to tell us your aims, nor why these people are after your life. However... We have fought side by side now. So, as a soldier, I cannot in good faith simply let you walk into inevitable demise," Olberic folds his arms.
Linde gives a nod in agreement.
"Right! Noblecourt is on the way to Stillsnow, sort of... so we can escort you there!" Ophilia adds.
The thief feels that knotted feeling again. It would be so much easier and less of a headache to reject them and go his own way... yet they don't abandon him. It's pathetic to say this is making it harder for him.
"... We ain't gonna let you go alone, Therion!" Alfyn just smiles, sitting at the foot of the bed. He holds Therion's hand in his own, "You're stuck with me until you get all better!"
The thief is silent. After a few long seconds, he finally just clicks his tongue in annoyance.
"... Fine."
"Some gratitude would be nice!" Tressa exclaims, "And even if Olberic doesn't ask, I still wanna know exactly what the heck is going on! I'm not sticking out my neck for something I don't even know!"
Primrose chuckles a little, as do Simeon and Cyrus.