Part 1: The Discovery
Another long day in the saddle chasing more shadows,
Tegan thought to herself.
Dismounting with a swing of a well muscled leg over her dappled horse, she surveyed the building in front of her. The 'Inn of the Bounding Doe' was nestled at the end of the mountain town, just before woods that stretched away into the jagged snow capped peaks. Sighing, she quickly rolled the damp sleeves of her shirt down, covering lines of small dark red runes. The slashed markings encircled both her forearms from elbow to wrist, and were the whole reason Tegan was at this edge of the kingdom at all.
Some would have called them an advantage in a world where myths and monsters were, at least historically, all too real. Each rune was attuned to a known creature and spelled to alert the bearer to the creatures presence, but in her experience as a commissioned certifier people were a little too eager to spin a tale about 'monsters' when they saw the runes. Once, not terribly long ago, you could make quite a pocket of coin off selling information to a certifier, who in turn sold that information to the monster hunting houses, but no longer. Certifiers and monster hunters both had been too efficient at their crafts, and now 'monsters' usually turned out to be tall tales or just particularly vile humans, using the guise of unnatural terror to hide their own vile deeds.
The decline in real monsters hadn't stopped people from trying to make a buck off a story though, and Tegan couldn't really blame them. It was always nice to stock some funds away for the lean times, especially out in the hinterlands. The fact remained that the only time the runes had actually done any good was when she was out in the wildest lands, and as far as she was concerned if someone was foolish enough to go striking out into territory that remote, they maybe deserved what came for them in the night. Still, the job paid and the crown had appearances to keep up, protecting the populace it ruled and all that, so here Tegan was.
Reaching up she undid the leather strip she had used to bind up her amber hair while riding, the sun lightened strands falling to just below her shoulders. She'd been tempted to cut the whole of it off as summer came on, but for now she would leave it be. Shading her chestnut brown eyes against the glare of the setting sun she passed off the reins of her horse to the stableboy, hefting her travel bag over her shoulder with the other, before pushing open the door to the inn.
"Be right with you traveler," a cheerful voice from across the room called as Tegan crossed to the bar and leaned against the wood, dropping her bag by her feet with a thump. She saw the owner of the voice, a tall and lithe red-headed woman, who was coming across the room with many ale mugs clutched in the long fingers of her hands. Hands that were surprisingly stained the deep purple of a bruise.
Tegan took in the color with a critical eye, mind flying through a catalog of reasons it might be present. She discarded a number of lesser known spells, late summer being the wrong season for those, as well as creatures that would never be found in the wooded foothills of this part of the country. She glanced to the side and saw that another of the inns guests had stained hands, this time a cobalt color. Tegan looked around the full room and saw that in fact many people's hands were stained. Every so often a colored, maybe red or bright yellow, would be wrapped around an ale mug. There didn't seem to be a pattern to who was stained and who was not, puzzling her.
Having deftly woven her way through the tavern room, avoiding legs and gesticulating arms, the redhead was about to round the bar when the side door directly in front of her swung open, startling her. It would have been a simple matter to recover, had an older man playing some kind of chance game at the end of the bar not jumped up with joy in apparent victory, knocking her further off balance. Mugs went flying as she fell, the commotion getting the attention of the bar. All but Tegan, whose attention was drawn to the man emerging from behind the door.
Tall as the door itself, he carried a cask of fresh ale on a well muscled shoulder, encircled by an equally meaty arm. Dark hair that was shorn close to his skull along the neck and sides, before becoming a thick wave at the crown. Handsome by anyone's standards, green-grey eyes looked out from under strong brows, the stubble of a few days beard only enhancing the stark line of his jaw.
However, it wasn't the fact that the leather ties of his apron were cutting a fine figure of his torso that drew Tegans attention. It was the fact that, in the space of the woman falling, the man had two of the falling mugs appear in what had been an empty hand. They had seemingly come from nowhere and only Tegans training had allowed her to catch the inhuman speed at which he'd caught them, not even having to blink his laugh-lined eyes in the effort.
"Emron Flint!" seethed the redhead from the floor, skirt damp and mugs broken around her, "You always show up at the worst possible moment!"
The man set the mugs in his hand down on the bar and stooped to help her up, thigh muscles straining his heavy canvas pants, the cask on his shoulder seeming to not impede him at all. After a terse low conversation Tegan couldn't hear, the barmaid brushed past him through the door. Setting the cask down with casual ease, he began gathering the larger mug pieces into his large calloused hands. Suspicion began to creep up Tegna's spine. She rubbed at her forearm absently while she replayed how he had caught the mugs moments before. None of the runes had set off a warning when she entered the room, like they were supposed to, a fact that made her more than a little uneasy. Before Tegan could finish puzzling out what had happened, the redhead flounced back into the room, hair having been tied up in a hasty messy bun and most of the beer wrung out of her skirt.
"Sorry about that miss," she said with false brightness, placing her purple hands onto the bartop near Tegan, who looked down at them in open curiosity.
"Not here for the festival then?" asked the redhead, noticing Tegans stare.
"Uh, no, can't say that I am," Tegan replied, sleek brow twitching.
"Well that's a shame. What can I help you with then?" she asked briskly, her eyes already panning the rest of the room for mugs to refill.
Tegan's eye's traveled over her shoulder and watched as the man went about tapping the cask. He was just a touch on the stout side, she decided, not as starkly muscled as he appeared now that she could see him up close. She also decided that this only made him more appealing, which vaguely surprised her. The village girls probably all felt the same, but if they knew what they were really coveting, Tegan was sure they would be running for the safety of their beds in a trice.
"I'm hoping for lodging, have anything available?" Tegan finally replied, continuing to watch the man fill mugs of ale and line them up on the bar.
"Well, that's going to be tricky, since most beds are taken by others coming in for the big bash and all," the barmaid said, suppressing a grin at how intently this sun bronzed woman in front of her was ogling her boss.
