Volume 4: Dereliction of Duty
Chapter VII: On The Case
Felicia crept along one of the outer rings of houses that made up the village, making her second lap through the row of buildings that separated the farm land from the village itself. With no sign of any redheaded elven women or cloak and dagger assassins running about, she eventually worked up the courage to peek into someone's window; it was the only lead she had to go on.
She knew better than to expect anything out of it, she couldn't have expected that doing something like that to bear fruit. But these were desperate times, Sarah could've been face down in someone's-. . .
Well- hopefully not a pool of blood.
No. That was unthinkable, even if it was one of the other million images that flashed through her mind, she could forgive those promiscuous little thoughts. Sarah didn't owe her anything.
Even if that wasn't the case, she was still a friend and a noble. These kinds of kingdoms and cities needed nobility to function, to influence policy and do whatever they did to ensure people got fed. Sarah was a lot of things, but it was obvious she preferred making people happy rather than miserable. Besides that, she was Felicia's friend. She could forgive a lot for a real friend.
As Felicia peeked in on a tiny family home she felt that weight crush down on her shoulders all the more. Sure, she shouldn't have been peeking, but Lostariel wasn't going to spare her, no matter what flowered words poured from her beautifully shaped mouth. It made this necessary, Felicia promised herself. She would have to forgive herself this little 'transgression' in order to save a life.
The little house was much like her own, barely remarkable save the two beds stacked atop one another in the corner and the cold hearth which looked a little lopsided. The chair in front of it was every bit as off kilter and propped up by a piece of scrap wood. Felicia could've bought this place several times over, how could they stand living like this?
"Eugh. . . " Felicia turned away with a vague sense of shame both for the people and her own judgment. At the very next house she repeated the process, doing her best to remain out of sight. With each successive building she got faster at it, stealing a peek and moving on. Most people were asleep in these outer homes, preparing for an early morning in the field, or the buildings were empty entirely as people finished up their daily chores. Whatever the case and for whatever it was worth, the virtue of the local farmhands was safe from raiding elven women for another day.
But that didn't explain where the hell Sarah had hidden herself.
If there was any chance she'd been seducing the locals, there might've been some kind of gossip- maybe that was a trait unique to the city dwellers, though; Sarah's name had been something of a commodity in Sorash from what Felicia could tell. She had a reputation here, too, though, so perhaps there was more to it. . .
Something Felicia was missing. Something obvious.
The teenager turned back towards the center of the village, stopping outside the coaster and looking around to get her bearings. Sarah was a noble, a noble interested in mortgaging land- she'd courted dozens of farm owners in Sorash before Felicia had come to her. But what did that mean to her now?
When nothing came to mind, she turned back to the inn, stopping just shy of entering it. Sarah wouldn't have been welcome here. Despite being as busy as it was, the bartender woman seemed to actually hate the elven woman- maybe all elves- so she wouldn't have been allowed to stay. People weren't allowed to sleep at the coaster, even if they could, and the village didn't seem particularly welcoming to strangers. Who could blame them with the constant flow of people from the caravans.
But Sarah was a noble. A very silver tongued noble; a very high ranking noble; a marchioness didn't
need
to subsist in peasant's quarters or even a merchant's burrow. No, Sarah would've gone for the most lavish building in the village. Stirred by this new revelation, Felicia ran to the coaster to ask about merchant families in the village, picking up from a very curt worker that the sheriff didn't allow merchants to set up shops in the village.
What a bunch of crap. Felicia wandered another loop around the village before she found herself in front of the only two story building in the inner ring of homes; a simple placard outside advertised it as the "Maiors Abode" with a sloppy white Y painted over the engraved I. The interior was aglow with several candles, so Felicia knocked lightly.
She was rehearsing her apology for disturbing the official when a young woman opened the door. She couldn't have been older than Felicia, but the skepticism and irritation made her seem much older and angrier. "Yes?" Her tone was direct and unfriendly.
"I'm sorry if I'm keeping you up, miss. My name's Felicia, I ah- I come from Sorash, I was looking for a-" Friend? Lover? Superior? "-Marchioness Kettar. I was lead to-" she paused when the woman's eyes narrowed. "I- I'm sorry, she left some paperwork unfiled with the city, and my farther's farm-"
"I'll tell you the same thing I told the city's Militia: she is not a friend of this village. She is
not
welcome here and I don't care what kind of deal you had with her, I'm not fulfilling any obligations-"
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, uh, to impose! I was just looking for her. Um. . . .do you know where she may have gotten to?"
A young man quietly spoke near the door, the woman pulled back to look up at him before leaning in and murmuring something. After a couple more moments of back and forth, she pulled back the door to reveal a tall, handsome man in tired leathers wearing his stubble proudly- every bit a man, but still young enough to look damn handsome and strong. He looked exhausted, but his eyes were warm and kind, if uncertain.
It took a moment to click, he looked familiar but she didn't remember from where. When the girl retreated back into the house he leaned forward a bit, his gaze briefly wandering down Felicia's chest. Not intentionally or even consciously, just something else she'd gotten used to from men over the years. His voice, however was anything but distracted.
"I'm sorry, she's just lost her father. . . .do you know anything about Sarah? Or why she might associate herself with an assassin?"
