CW: worldbuilding
Chapter 2: Pride
I couldn't decide which was more painful to look at--the corpses of the men I'd just killed in a fit of blind rage, or the demonic claws and skin my left hand had just sprouted. I couldn't stay here any longer. I had to get out.
Normally I'd have paused at least long enough to loot the bodies. Don't look at me like that--it's not like they needed material goods anymore. It wasn't as if I'd... well, I had killed them, I guess, but it had mostly been self-defense. If I told myself that often enough I might even start to believe it.
Today, though, I couldn't stand the thought of lingering on the battlefield. Even the time it took to find my bow was painful. I kept hearing the last man beg for mercy, feeling that awful surge of wrath...
No. No, this wasn't helping anything. I didn't need to dwell on what I'd done, I needed a doctor. Or a priest. Or a doctor-priest. A magician-doctor-priest. Someone to tell me what the hell was going on, and how to break whatever curse had been placed on me.n
That meant money, though, and no small amount. Probably more than I had left, which meant that I still had to find this gods-damned cow, first.
Thankfully, my attackers hadn't bothered to hide their trail beyond the point where they'd staged their ambush. They had a little camp about a quarter-mile down the ravine. Simone's bull was tied to a stubby tree just outside the ring of tents, along with a pair of weary-looking horses.
Jackpot--even old nags like these were worth a pretty penny.
And
it meant I wouldn't have to walk all the way back.
I'd have said something about my luck starting to turn, but every time I caught a glimpse of my transformed arm I remembered that nothing could be farther from the truth.
#
Simone dvaLena had indeed been grateful for the safe return of her bull, and utterly horrified at the idea that her quest had turned into some sort of attempt on my life. She admitted to having a few dealings with Jake dvOlivia, but couldn't imagine how shipments of salt beef had turned into an assassination. She went on and on at such length that it started to make me suspicious. Especially with the eyes she kept making at me the whole time.
And honestly, if I wasn't so worried by my arm it might have worked--my body was still ridiculously on edge. It wasn't my usual reaction to danger, but my nipples were hard enough to cut glass, and every time she batted her eyelashes, my breath would catch in my throat and I'd have to force my mind away from inappropriate thoughts.
I finally made a lame excuse and left. Fled, really, before I found a way to make this whole mess even worth. Maybe Simone was part of Jake's schemes and maybe she wasn't, and maybe said schemes were connected to my arm and maybe they weren't, but sleeping with her was a complication I did not want.
No matter how much my body protested otherwise.
I wasn't ambushed again on the way back to town, and eventually managed to return to my room at the Devil Ray Inn two hundred gold richer. Two hundred and sixty gold, actually, counting what I'd gotten for the horses. Two hundred and ninety seven, if you included my previous savings.
I didn't know if it would be enough to pay for the kind of help I needed, but it would have to do. Somehow it didn't feel like a good idea to put things off while I saved up a bit more.
I left my weapons and armor in my room, keeping only the daggers in my boots and at the small of my back. I almost left those too, but decided against it at the last moment. I didn't want to be armed if I went berserk again, but I wanted to be robbed even less.
It was full dark by the time I slipped back out of the inn, and the streets were rapidly emptying. It took me less than an hour to reach my destination.
#
"There are as many ways to live as there are waves on the sea" was the unofficial motto of the Free Cities, but it might as well apply to the practice of magic as well. It was a part of life in every corner of the six seas, but different peoples wielded it in very different ways.
Here in the lands around the Maelsea, we were taught that the world was governed by the three hundred and seventy-seven Dominions--the formless spirits of everyday objects and concepts. Those lucky enough to be Trusted by such an entity could do virtually anything they set their mind to, provided it in some way fell under the purview of their Dominion.
To the south, in the war-torn lands of Casac and Pastela, priests could chain the spirits of the dead to the bodies of the living. So augmented, a Warborn could claw their way through a brick wall, take a crossbow bolt to the face without blinking, and hurl heavy objects without so much as a touch.
To the west, the lush forests of Korenth have been known to give rise to men and women who were blessed with the strength and majesty of the great dragon they worshipped. Sometimes this meant claws and scales, sometimes wings, and sometimes deadly venom or hypnotic eyes.
And in the cold and ancient Dirge Empire to the north, magic was a thing of music, all color and flash and grandiose, immediate effect. A skilled Maestro could summon lightning and open portals between distant places, heal the wounded and quiet the winds.
They were not popular around the Maelsea. The Dirge Empire had been gazing covetously at the Free Cities for decades, just waiting for an excuse to pounce, and anyone with the misfortune of looking like one of the pale northern race was greeted with suspicion at best and thrown stones at worst. When it came to Maestros, that hostility mixed with a healthy fear of their abilities into something explosively dangerous. Whether they were spies or refugees, Maestros in the Free Cities almost universally tried not to attract attention.
On the other hand, that just meant those brave enough to sell their services on the black market could command exorbitant prices. That kind of money could buy safety and privacy--and made the prospect of approaching a Maestro even more nerve-wracking. Even if she
did
owe you a favor.
#
I knocked respectfully on the door of a sturdy family-style home. It would have been unremarkable out in the country, but in the heart of the city, the three-story construction had to have been outrageously expensive. After a moment, the door was opened by an equally expensive butler in an equally expensive embroidered red brocade and hose.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" His words formed a question, but from his tone the answer was going to be "no" regardless of what I said. The sheer haughtiness made me want to punch him in the face. He wouldn't sound so fancy with his shiny shoes jammed down his throat, I could tell you that much.
"I need to speak with Dar'asa'ilv'yeri'moryrr'i'et'bur, urgently," I said urgently. "Please. I can pay, I promise."
"There is no-one by that name here," he sniffed. "This is the residence of lady Dar'asa'ilv'
tano
