by Pirateaba
“To the old Horns of Hammerad. We did it.”
“You did.”
The two clinked mugs and then drank. Ceria gulped the strong alcohol down and then sighed.
“It doesn’t feel real. I keep pinching myself, and I still can’t believe we’re alive.”
“You’re telling me? I just heard about all this, and I’m still in shock.”
Ceria laughed lightly.
“Well, we’ve had a day. I just keep thinking I’m going to wake up in the pit again or—”
She paused, and ignored Ryoka’s inquiring look.
“Anyways, the rumors are partly true. We’re rich, we’re famous, and we got out of Albez with a load of treasure and some magical artifacts. Pisces and Ksmvr are trying to get rid of it all today, but we’re set for a long time.”
“I’m glad.”
That was all Ryoka said, but Ceria heard everything she meant in it. She nodded, and then remembered.
“I’ve got money for Erin too—we talked, and there’s forty gold coins waiting for her.”
Ryoka whistled softly.
“That’s a lot more than she said she lent you.”
Ceria grinned.
“We’d give her even more, but we don’t have that much gold to toss around.”
“The rumor I heard coming into the city was that you and the others were set up for life.”
The half-Elf has to laugh at that, ruefully.
“We were. We pulled in nearly a hundred pounds worth of gold and gems, did you know? That would be enough to outfit us in style or pay for our retirement—Pisces, Yvlon and Ksmvr’s, at least, I’d run out before I died of old age—but we spent it instead.”
“On what? Magical equipment?”
“No. It’s going to the people who died in Liscor.”
“Oh.”
Silence descended again, but not for too long. Ceria explained.
“We’re giving them each a share. If we can, that is. Direct family—lovers—it’s hard to confirm, but we’ll give all the relatives of the dead what we can. It’s not enough, but it’s something.”
Ryoka nodded.
“Noble of you. Not sure it’s practical.”
“Neither am I. But Yvlon’s said she’ll forfeit her share of the magical artifacts if need be. I’m not sure it’ll come to that, but she’ll have last pick at any rate.”
“Artifacts? You mentioned those. You came away with more than just gold and jewels?”
“In a sense.”
Ceria grimaced as she explained what they’d recovered.
“Burnt and mangled, mostly. But they’re powerful. The trouble is, we can’t figure out what they do or if they’re still dangerous.”
“I can see that’s a problem. Can’t you hire another [Mage] to analyze the stuff, though?”
Ceria shook her head.
“Not in this city. There’s no one high-level enough to tell us what the items do, or whether they can be repaired. Pisces and I have had a look at the enchantments, but the more complex a spell is, the harder it is to…untangle the individual spells I guess is the best way of putting it. And since they’re all damaged, it’s even more of a mess.”
“I see.”
Ryoka frowned.
“Magical weapons, huh?”
“And a bag and the pack of a dead adventurer. Frankly, I suspect those two might be the more valuable pieces of loot. I’m sure the bag is actually a bag of holding, and if that’s the case, who knows what could be in there?”
“But you haven’t opened it?”
“Too risky. The bag and the pack are both trapped, at least, so we think. There’s a binding spell that prevents both from being opened—or damaged—and I don’t want to mess with either one. If the wards are anything like the dungeon we just went through, I wouldn’t want the bag opened even if I were on the other side of the city.”
“Was it really that dangerous down there?”
Ryoka looked inquiringly at Ceria. The half-Elf hesitated. She didn’t want to lie, but she didn’t want to tell the truth either. Even remembering the ordeal made her shudder.
“It was—bad. Very bad.”
She didn’t press for details, but Ryoka’s expression told Ceria she would listen. And Ceria knew she had to tell her. Slowly, she began to relate the entire tale to Ryoka, skipping over only the parts that were too hard to tell her, the details of the pit.
“Near the end, I think we were all a bit insane, even after the spell had ended. We made a lot of bad mistakes, and we lost the majority of the treasure because we made a mistake.”
“It wasn’t your fault. None of you were thinking straight.”
“That’s true enough, but we should have fallen back. If we’d just taken the time…”
Again, Ceria had to make herself break off. There was no use going over the moment again and again. She turned the topic away from the past and onto the future instead. She made her tone lighter.
“After Yvlon gets treated and we’ve had another day to rest, we’re going to have to think hard about what we want to do next.”
“As adventurers, you mean?”
“Not that. I mean, not yet. I think we’re all in this now; we’ve been bit by the adventuring beast. But we need to improve ourselves first. We all leveled up from that dungeon—several times actually! But if we want to continue, we need to get those artifacts analyzed. They’re the difference between us being Silver-rank and Gold-rank.”
Ryoka nodded, thinking hard.
“Any idea how you could do that? I have one idea, but it would be…risky…”
“No need for risk. I know how to get everything looked at. It’s just a matter of time and effort.”
“Really? How?”
Ceria drained most of her mug, grimacing as she remembered it wasn’t water she was drinking.
“One place where we know we’d find people able to dispel the magic and maybe even repair the artifacts is Invrisil.”
“The City of Adventurers?”
“Everyone just has to mention that.”
The half-Elf rolled her eyes and laughed with Ryoka. But then she grew serious again.
“Yes. It’s one of the most famous cities on the continent for a reason. It’s the center of the Human lands, and famous teams pass through there all the time. If there were any place aside from Wistram where we’d get the gear looked at, it’s there.”
“Sounds good to me. Only one problem though—isn’t Invrisil over four hundred miles north of here?”
“Six hundred? Something huge. Anyways, none of us want to make the journey, but that’s the place we have to be. A trip would take weeks—maybe as much as a month and it would take far too much coin and time, not to mention the danger if people knew what we were carrying. But…”
“But…?”
Ceria grinned.
“Well, we were talking about it last night. This morning, rather, while we were getting over our last hangover. If it’s too much time and effort for the four of us to go north, why not hire someone who can get there faster? Someone we can trust? They could take the gold and get the gear analyzed, and then send us a [Message] spell and ask what we want to do and bring the gear back. Of course, we’d have to have complete faith in the Runner brave enough to do all that…”
At first, Ryoka’s expression was intent, but then her face went slack with surprise. By the time Ceria had finished, she was shaking her head.
“That’s a lot of trust to put in a Runner. I wouldn’t trust anyone like that, myself.”
“Are you sure?”
Ceria teased Ryoka.
“You’re the person who saved the original Horns of Hammerad all that time ago. And you went into the crypts to rescue me. I’d trust you with our gear and coin, and so would Yvlon. Pisces is on the fence, and Ksmvr just doesn’t know you that well. But if we got you an escort—another Runner who can fight maybe—the real issue is how you’ll carry all that gear without attracting attention.”
The yo
ung woman’s expression was bemused.
“I…may have something that could help with that. But before we go to all that trouble, I might have an even better idea. I happen to know a local expert in magic myself.”
“Really? Who?”
“I’ll introduce you.”
To Ceria’s incredulous surprise, Ryoka unbuckled her Runner’s belt and laid it on the table. She called out, and to Ceria’s astonishment she saw one of the compartments was moving.
“Hey. Ivolethe. You can come out here.”
The large pouch vibrated and Ceria leaned back as she heard a voice! It was a voice, but something was very strange about it. She heard someone speaking, that much was obvious. And yet—
She heard the words. It sounded like—‘are ye sure?’. But it couldn’t be. Ceria rubbed at her ears; the sound was almost ethereal, if that could apply to a voice. It felt almost as though she was hearing the words in her mind, like a stray thought. Then Ryoka opened the pouch and something flew out.
A Frost Faerie, a Winter Sprite, one of the beings of winter Ceria had seen every year, flew into the air, whirling as vapor trails formed behind her. Ceria gasped and pushed her chair back in instinctive surprise. And fear. She hadn’t forgotten how the faeries had attacked her last time she’d met, and all half-Elves had learned very early on that the Winter Sprites were not friendly towards them.
But something was different about this faerie. She wasn’t the half-blurred form Ceria saw in the sky. Ceria knew the faeries had their own glamor, an illusion she could only partly see through thanks to her Elven heritage. But in the confines of the room, the magic that kept her from being seen and heard was gone.
She was—real. So real and delicate and wondrous that Ceria couldn’t believe her eyes. But what her eyes saw made her stare even harder.
She saw something else, behind the form Ryoka saw. She saw a flash of color—a face, far larger than the tiny faerie’s wrinkling her nose at Ceria in displeasure. The elfin being flicked her hair—
And then the image was gone. The tiny faerie flipped her hair, flipped Ceria off, and then jumped up onto the mug with the drinks. She dunked her head in it and drank, lowering the level of the liquid quite a bit. Then she sat on the cup and glared at both Ceria and Ryoka.
“I do not wish to speak to the offspring of whores and slatterns.”
“That’s a rude way to say hello.”
Ryoka glared at the tiny faerie whom she introduced as Ivolethe. Ceria just stared, awestruck. When she finally found her voice, all she could do was stammer.
“How did you—do you know what—Ryoka?”
The young woman was grinning like a child holding a huge sweet.
“She’s a friend of mine, Ceria. A Frost Faerie. And she’s teaching me their magic.”
“Their magic?”
Ceria’s eyes turned back to Ivolethe. The tiny faerie made another rude gesture.
“Don’t stare at me so, bastard-daughter!”
The words stung and brought Ceria back to earth. Ryoka frowned hard at the tiny faerie and pushed her into the cup. Ivolethe spluttered and shook liquid off her wings, shouting in outrage.
“Stop that. Ceria’s done nothing wrong. Why do your people hate her so much?”
The faerie sneered at Ryoka.
“We don’t hate her, fool! We hate what she has become, what her existence means! Ask her about her people and their sin!”
Ceria bit her lip as the faerie spoke. She didn’t know about sin—but she knew what the faerie meant. Ryoka glanced at her face and scowled at Ivolethe again.
“Stop being rude. I asked you to come out because I thought you could help, not shout insults. Calm down.”
“Would you like a drink?”
Ceria offered her mug to the faerie. Ivolethe snorted and kicked the mug back.
“I won’t drink from your cup, half-breed!”
Ryoka’s eyes narrowed.
“Ivolethe. She offered you her cup. That was an act of good faith.”
“I piss in your good faith!”
The faerie shouted at Ceria, but Ryoka flicked her back into the mug again. When she came out shrieking in outrage, Ceria just sighed and spoke to Ryoka.
“I don’t think it’s worth it, Ryoka.”
“I do. And if Ivolethe is my friend, she’d heed my request.”
Something about the way Ryoka phrased her statement spoke to Ceria. It certainly had an impact on Ivolethe. The faerie stared up at her, incredulous.
“Ye’d invoke our friendship? For her?”
“Absolutely. She’s my friend as well. And all I’m asking is if you’d consider looking at her magical artifacts.”
“No! Nae! Never a million times over!”
“Ivolethe…”
“Never a million times and one!”
“Come on.”
“No!”
Ceria stared at the two arguing and rubbed her eyes. She stared at her mug and decided she wasn’t doing any more drinking, possibly ever. Ryoka kept pressing the insistent Frost Faerie.
“Ivolethe, I’m asking you as a friend. Unless your friendship with me isn’t worth that much?”
Ivolethe’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and her voice deepened far more than should be possible.
“Play no games with me, mortal. Friendship is not a bargaining tool.”
“Sorry.”
Ryoka actually looked chastened. Ivolethe fanned her wings out, sniffed, and then seemed to relent. She didn’t look directly at Ceria, but her tone made it clear she was speaking to both girls.
“Even if I did consent, my help would avail ye naught.”
“Why’s that? Can’t you read magic? I thought faeries knew more magic than any mortal.”
“True, but what we understand is not your odd system. I could read the flow of magic within such objects, but knowing the ken of such strange things is beyond me. The wh—the halfling is right. Find a proper spellcaster to do your work rather than bother me.”
With that, the faerie jumped back into the pouch and closed it in a huff, pausing only to drink Ryoka’s cup dry. Ryoka stared at Ceria and shrugged.
“Well, it was worth a shot.”
Ceria stared at her friend and shook her head very slowly.
“You’re going to have to explain what happened to you while I was away.”
The young woman grinned.
“I can do that. It’ll take a while, though.”
“We’ve got time. You could tell all of us over dinner. We could visit Yvlon then hear it from you.”
Ryoka nodded.
“Good idea. And while we do, I can talk to you about Erin.”
“What about Erin? Is she okay?”
“She’s in Celum right now.”
“What?”
“I’ll tell you the entire story, but the long and short of it is that she needs an escort. And we also need for Pisces to track down Toren—the skeleton.”
“Why?”
Ceria’s mind raced ahead of Ryoka’s answer and she groaned even as Ryoka told her.
“He’s done it. Pisces actually—no, maybe he just made one that could think. But that crazy fool actually—”
Ryoka frowned as she followed Ceria out the door. The half-Elf stomped down the corridor, suddenly in a foul mood.
“What’s he done? What’s this about Toren?”
“We’ll get Pisces to explain right now. If he’s not sober I’ll freeze him until he is. It’s his stupid idea with the undead. It goes all the way back to when we were at Wistram.”
Ceria paused as she reached the stairs leading down. She halted Ryoka silently. The young woman looked at her, and she had the presence of mind to whisper.
“What? What’s wrong?”
The half-Elf frowned. She lowered her voice to a whisper as well.
“Pisces and Ksmvr were down there with half the city drinking and having a party.”
“So?”
“Why’s it so quiet?”
The two were ready for anything—bandits, a crazed mob, enemy mages, monsters—even an evil undead skeleton. But neither of them had expected the smartly dressed, professional [Butler] that stood in the middle of the common room, waiting for them to come down.
He was the odd thing out in the world of celebration and cheer. Pisces, Ksmvr, and the many, many guests in the inn were all paused in the midst of their reveling, staring at the man in his black uniform and trim mustache. He bowed to Ryoka, arm over his stomach as she descended, staring at him.
“Ryoka Griffin?”
Ceria looked over at her friend as every eye turned to the Runner. Ryoka had a dark look on her face as she stared at the man. She crossed her arms.
“Who’s asking?”
The [Butler] straightened and gave her a dignified nod of the head. His words were crisp and precise.
“My name is Reynold, Miss Griffin. I am a [Butler] in direct employ of the Reinhart house. I have come here at the orders of Lady Magnolia.”
Ceria had never wanted a [Butler]—she’d never considered even having one before now. But now she wanted one. She stared at the man, mind buzzing with the implications of what he’d just said. Lady Magnolia? She wanted Ryoka? Why?
Ryoka’s face was completely hostile as she stared at Reynold.
“Oh? And what does Magnolia want with me?”
The man gestured towards the door. Through it, Ryoka could see a carriage, sitting horseless on the street. But it was not a simple carriage. It had to be one of the nobility’s carriages, the kind pulled by magic creations similar in nature to the fire construct she’d faced in the dungeon.
“The coach awaits you outside. If you will come with us, we will bring you to the estate of Magnolia Reinhart.”
“And if I refuse?”
Ceria stared at her friend in shock. But Ryoka looked quite serious. Reynold nodded once.
