Iiro
For a moment, Arris hesitated, as Yveshin placed the silver coin in front of him. “For you”, the elf spoke and the man frowned. Biting down onto his lower lip, he grabbed the coin, as tears welled up in his eyes. “Thank you”, he mumbled, his voice devoid of hope. However, he grabbed the coin, then Yveshin's hand. “You are a good man”, he added, his voice heavy with tears. “I don't think this will help much, but maybe it can get me away from here” He sighed. “At least I can die somewhere else”
Iiro raised an eyebrow. “You can find work somewhere else”, he said. “Take this coin, buy passage to Trallop or Warkhome” Arris shook his head. “That won't be far enough to get away from Boswitz”, he spoke. “And what I have won't get me any farther” He closed his eyes. “But at least this is a kind gesture. The world has grown cold lately. Not many out there who care for what happens to people like me”
“They all got their own problems”, Vittorio argued. “Wouldn't go as far as to call the entire world cold-hearted” Arris frowned. “No, that is...”, he stuttered, but he cut himself off as the door got pushed open again. At first, Iiro thought the enforcer had returned and he clenched his fists, ready for a fight. However, instead of him, two young men came in, pointing into Arris' direction. “Mother, here!”, they yelled.
A second later, a woman followed. She was stocky and stout, her round, wrinkled face framed by grey hair, which was tied into a prim bun. Despite her advanced age, she was fast, as she approached the group and while her clothing was common, the tin chain around her neck showed a symbol that was known to Iiro. Instantly, he gave her a respectful nod. “Mother”, he greeted her in an almost sheepish voice. The church of Travia was perhaps not as influential as the church of Praios, or as battle-hardened as the church of Rondra, yet they demanded just as much respect as either of them. Up in the Valley of Svelt, they were a well-liked addition to every community. In fact, they made the community. Feeding the poor, sheltering the homeless, keeping villages together with their work, marrying lovers and reconciling enemies.
“Again, Arris?”, the woman asked and up close, she was notably over a head shorter than Iiro, bordering on two, even if she was just as wide. A smile formed on her wrinkled face and it was full of kindness, as the man sighed. “Mother, I am sorry”, he mumbled, but before he could continue, she cut him off, raising a stern finger. “They say you got into trouble with Boswitz' men again. Who was it this time? Rondrian? Cordovan?”
“Elbaran...”, Arris sighed and the priestess raised an eyebrow. “And instead of coming to the temple, you decide to hide here?”, she asked. Arris did not reply and instead, he stared at the floor in shame. The priestess shook her head. “You know we can help you, my boy”, she spoke. “I can have a stern word with Boswitz and we can find a solution”
“Not with this man, Mother”, he argued. “You did a lot for me and I don't want you to get yourself in trouble with the most powerful man in this city” The priestess smiled kindly. “The most powerful man in the city is the count, followed by the High Priest of Praios”, she corrected him. “Perhaps a stern talk will remind Jobdan Boswitz of his own place in the world order the Twelve have decided upon”
Her gaze met the four around Arris and she briefly raised an eyebrow. “And who are you?”, she asked, to which Arris looked up. “They are good people, Mother”, he told her. “They came to my aid when Elbaran had me cornered. The elf even gave me a bit of coin” The priestess nodded, then gave each of the four a wide smile. “A rare kindness”, she admitted. “Not many would have the guts to defy one of Boswitz' debt collectors”
Yveshin gulped. “To be honest, we had no idea whom this man was”, he spoke. “But he didn't strike me as too dangerous. He was all alone and there were four of us” The priestess chuckled. “I stand corrected”, she admitted. “The people who live here rarely have the guts to do this” She placed a hand on her heart. “You have my gratitude for helping poor Arris here”, she continued. “I am Linai Arvensgate, better known as Mother Linai, High Priestess of Baliho's Temple of Travia”
“Mother”, Vittorio said as well now. This visibly confused the elves, who exchanged a glance and after Yveshin shook his head, it was Thea who voiced her thoughts first. “I... am not sure if I understand”, she spoke and her elvish accent shined through in particular. “Is this your mother?”
Mother Linai flashed her a wide, crooked grin, as she allowed herself a warm chuckle. “My dear, you are new in these lands, aren't you?”, she asked and she did not wait for Thea's reply. “Mother is my title, my rank in the Church of Travia, the Mother Goddess and Ever Faithful”
This explanation seemed to be somewhat enough for Thea, who shook her head. “Humans...”, she mumbled. “I am Thea of the Wavedancer Tribe and this is Yveshin of the Lightbringer tribe” Yveshin managed to give Mother Linai a respectful nod and Iiro spoke up. “And my name is Iiro Redal. This is my employer, Vittorio Crawford”
“A pleasure, Mother Linai”, Vittorio spoke and the priestess chuckled. “And you are a mage, aren't you? Another rare sight in these lands”, she replied. “Worry not, you have nothing to fear from me. All those who are decent to the people of Baliho can count on my friendship” She glanced at Arris. “And from what I have heard, what you have done is more than decent”
“We only did our...”, Iiro began, but Vittorio cut him off. “Our calling, Mother Linai, and we did it gladly!”, he spoke in a cheerful, downright charming voice, accompanied by a warm smile. His sudden shift in tone did not surprise Iiro at all. Vittorio wasn't one to do charity work, but now there was the favour of one of Baliho's most influential people on the line. Truth be told, Iiro preferred it that way, with Vittorio doing the talking.
“Is that so?”, Mother Linai asked, though her tone did sound somewhat convinced, as far as Iiro could tell. “In that case, you might be a rarer breed than I expected” She smiled, especially at the elves. “Though it confirms what I have heard of your people from my friends in Thunderbrook” Thea raised an eyebrow. “And what do they say about our people?”, she asked.
“That the elves are kind people at heart”, the priestess replied. “You may not believe in Travia, but her virtues are strong with you. Loyalty, community, charity, that is what we should uphold and for all I know, those virtues can be found within your tribes” She raised an eyebrow, as she looked at Yveshin. “And am I correct to assume that you have just given Arris almost all of your coin?”
The elf shook his head. “Oh, not at all”, he spoke. “I still have four more of the same coin” Mother Linai seemed almost impressed by this. “One fifth of your entire riches”, she mumbled. “There are few even in my church who are as generous. Maybe it won't do much to help Arris, but don't you worry for him, I can deal with Boswitz”
“You'll be alright?”, Iiro asked, giving Arris a pat on the shoulder. The blacksmith tensed up, before nodding. “Yeah”, he mumbled. “Mother Linai is right. I just didn't want her church to get in trouble with Boswitz. She and her acolytes do a lot of good in this city” The priestess gave him a kind smile. “We did so before Boswitz was born and we will do so long after he has returned to Boron”, she stated boldly. “He can either make his peace with that and support us, or he can make an enemy as fierce as none he ever faced before” She raised a finger. “Of course, he won't be cheated out of his coin either. At the end of the day, the man still gave you gold when you needed it”, she stated and Arris sighed. “But we will find a solution both of you can agree upon”
“Yes, Mother Linai”, Arris mumbled and the priestess smiled widely. “Alright, let's get you to the temple and tomorrow I will have a word with Boswitz”, she proclaimed, before she turned to the four. “Now, about you...” She paused a moment, as she tilted her head and carefully mustered each of them. “You haven't been here for too long, have you?”
“Three days”, Iiro replied. “Less for the rest, I presume” The priestess raised an eyebrow. “What do you say, I give you something to welcome you in Baliho? You have helped Arris a great deal, after all. Good deeds should always be rewarded, not just in the next life”
Iiro shook his head. “Oh, that won't be...”, he began, but once more, Vittorio cut him off. “Why, it is rude to refuse a priestess' gifts, my friend!”, he spoke and Mother Linai chuckled. “What did you have in mind? Of course, we haven't done it for a reward, but we might be in need of some help of our own, if you don't mind”
“Actually, I was thinking about inviting you”, Mother Linai spoke. “There is an exclusive event in the Northstar tonight. A tulamid evening, if I'm not mistaken. They even hired a Sharisad, one of the famed dancers” Iiro smiled slightly as he remembered the announcement they had witnessed just an hour ago. “I am friends with the owner and was thinking about attending this event. I'll have a table for myself and would like to invite you, to give you a better impression of Baliho than what Boswitz' enforcer undoubtedly has given you”
Iiro raised an eyebrow as he had to think about Father Travis, the priest who had been presiding over the small temple in his home village, a stern, old man who had been demanding discipline and rigorous obedience. Mother Linai's approach was new and undeniably welcome. “Mother, excuse me, but... are you inviting us to revelry?”, Vittorio asked, apparently having made similar experienced with the Church of Travia in the past.
To this, the priestess laughed. “I am inviting you to join me in a community event”, she corrected him. “Isn't this what my faith should be about?” She gave them a nod, before she placed an arm around Arris's shoulder. “Meet me at the Northstar this evening. Just ask for me and I am sure they will let you through”. With this, she and Arris walked to the door, leaving the rest behind.
“I take it this is unusual”, Yveshin deduced from seeing the look of surprise on Iiro's face. The mercenary nodded. “Very much so”, he spoke. “Next thing we meet is a cowardly priest of Rondra, eh?” Vittorio chuckled. “Or a reasonable priest of Praios”, he spoke and his smirk was pleased. “By the Twelve, this woman is a credit to her faith. And who knows, it cannot possibly hurt to have a friend in high places in this city”
“I thought you knew where to go next”, Thea growled and Vittorio nodded. “Oh, but I know!”, he claimed. “That being said, one never knows if we ever have to return to Baliho” He shrugged, as he pointed at the free table they had been sitting on before their meeting with Plainsbridge. “For now, our next stop shall be this table, then the Northstar”, he proclaimed, as he raised two silver coins. “And to celebrate this occasion, I pay the first round”
Vittorio didn't have to pay much, this was something Iiro had to admit. He himself preferred to keep a clear head for this evening, considering it promised to be splendid, while the elves never drank and stuck to water. Still, with his gesture, the mage had apparently won their favour, as after a while of talking, even Thea warmed up slightly.
Over the course of the next hours, Iiro learned a bit about his companions, even if both remained tight-lipped for their true reasons for being in these lands. All he picked up on was that Thea was looking for someone and Yveshin had met her by chance earlier today. But what he learned about Vittorio was more interesting. It wasn't so much what he told them, but what he didn't. The man was a liar, but Iiro knew better than to rat out the man who promised to pay his bills. As such, he played along, more often than not talking about himself, his childhood in the Valley of Svelt and how he had come to pick up arms.
Thankfully, their conversation had to be cut short before he reached the Orkenstorm. That would have been the one topic he really wouldn't have liked to delve into. Instead, as soon as the sun was setting, Vittorio proclaimed that it would be time to meet up with Mother Linai. Following the directions of a local, he led the four of them through the dark, but still crowded streets of Baliho.
The Northstar itself was visibly a more expensive tavern than the Black Bull or the Emperor and the Ork. Three stories high, it was located in one of the fancier parts of the city. A clean, white front was decorated with thin wisps of blue silk that fell down from the roof. The shield over the door was solid iron, decorated with a star-shaped orb of pure gold. Speaking of the door itself, it stood open and a red carpet was rolled out, just slightly leaving the building itself. Around a corner, Iiro was able to see a glimpse of the big taproom, already crowded with people and he heard not only their chats and laughter, but also strange music, of a kind he had never heard before in the Valley of Svelt.
Two sturdy men stood guard in front of the building, armed with clubs, though they did not raise them as the group approached. Mustering them briefly, one of them raised a hand. “Tonight's an exclusive event”, he growled. “We don't want vagrants in there” Iiro narrowed his eyes, but Vittorio took a step forwards. “Why, we are no vagrants”, he spoke. “My name is Vittorio Crawford, maybe Mother Linai mentioned my name”
The two guards exchanged a glance and the silent one nodded, which caused his companion to sigh. “Didn't know that was you”, he admitted. “Alright, go in, the Mother is waiting. But don't cause any trouble, or we'll kick you out at once” Vittorio smirked, before he gave the rest a sign to follow him, before he entered the building first.
Iiro was surprised by how warm it was in there. It wasn't a cold evening out on the streets, but the owner of the Northstar still felt the need to heat up the ovens. Paired with the natural heat of dozens of people in one room, the effects were exactly like he imagined the desert to feel. He frowned and suddenly wished to have left his fur cloak behind. At the same time, with so many people around, he did not just want to leave it at the entrance either.
The taproom of the Northstar was magnificent. The entire centre of the three stories of the building was reserved for it, with lodges and balconies to allow for a better view down onto the stage. Said stage took over the entire back quarter of the taproom and it alone was likely larger than the house he had grown up in. For the occasion, it was decorated in red and blue tapestries, embroidered with gold, in a form of craftsmanship he had never seen before. The pattern on the tapestries was foreign, yet strangely pleasant. A thin layer of sand covered the entire stage, safe for a corner, where four musicians played strange instruments.
Back home, people played on flutes, violins and drums and in his uncle's inn, where he had been living for the first five years of his live, there had been a harp. However, these instruments had little in common with what he was used to. The violin was oversized, so much that it had to stand on the ground, leaning against the musician, who himself wore the attire of the Tulamids, right to the colourful scarf around his head. The drums stood on the ground as well and the soft, deep tones coming from it were barely audible, yet they resonated within him. Another musician was pulling strings on a board he had on his lap, the resulting music being as strange as it was fascinating.
Vittorio seemed more used to it, as he closed his eyes the moment they entered, taking a deep breath. “Ah, they even got the smell right, safe for the stench of northern sweat, of course”, he mumbled and indeed, while Iiro barely noticed the sweat, the exotic smell was far more prominent for him, equal parts sweet and sharp. “I take it you have seen such shows before?”, he asked.
“Ah, not even nearly enough!”, Vittorio proclaimed. “Tulamid evenings are well-loved by the nobility of Almada and the Horasians have started to adapt to them as well. I have been on my fair share of them before, but I must admit, I never expected a northern establishment to get it right” He nodded. “My deepest respect to the owner, I doubt this was easy, or cheap”, he added. “The musicians are Tulamids and as far as I can tell, their instruments are genuine Fasarian craftsmanship. And they have hired a proper Sharisad, which means they had to negotiate with the caliph's men”
As he spoke, they moved through the room and it did not take them long to find Mother Linai, even though every single one of the numerous tables in the room was filled with guests, some playing cards, others just chatting, or watching the stage. The priestess hadn't promised too much, as she indeed had a table for herself, close to the stage and with a perfect view. Once more, it was surprising for Iiro how relaxed she was. Enjoying such an evening, it was more in line for a priestess of Rahja and yet, Linai was sitting there, leaning back, enjoying the music and sipping on a glass of fine wine. As soon as she spotted the group, a kind smile formed on her face.
“Ah, my new friends”, she spoke. “I am pleased you could arrange it! Grab a seat, this should start soon” She raised a hand and from the crowd, a tanned, fiery-eyed waitress came by, dressed in the silken attire of a tulamid dancer, which exposed most of her belly. With a beautiful smile, she handed Iiro a cup, filled with sweet wine. The elves declined, which almost seemed to sadden the waitress, but Vittorio was more than happy to step in.
“Thank you for the invitation, Mother Linai”, Iiro spoke and the priestess nodded. “Ah, I do this gladly”, she assured them. “Newcomers should have the best possible impression of our city, in the name of Travia” She and Iiro touched glasses and the mercenary took a hesitant sip, while the priestess took more of a gulp. It would have been undignified, if not for the fact that she waited for a moment, just enjoying the magnificent taste. Iiro himself was not an expert on wines, but this was far better than any he ever had before.
“Excellent”, Vittorio sighed. “It has been some time since I last had it, but this must be a proper Rashtul's Wall, if I am not mistaken” Mother Linai nodded. “Orombolosh, the dwarf who owns this establishment, has told me just a few days ago”, she revealed. “He is particularly proud of the wine. Apparently, it cost almost as much as hiring the Sharisad did” She raised an eyebrow. “You know a lot about fine wines, Master Vittorio”
This seemed to please the mage, as he leant back. “Why, Mother Linai, in Almada they say that few know their wines as well as Vittorio Crawford”, he claimed and Iiro suppressed a smirk. Yveshin, who had settled for water, raised an eyebrow. “Are they really doing that, or is this sarcasm?”, he asked, which caused Mother Linai to chuckle. “I'm trying to catch up on your humour. It is strange and I don't find much of what you say funny, but I think I'm starting to see how it works”
Vittorio frowned. “Yes...”, he mumbled. “Of course, humour...” He paused for a second, which Iiro used to speak up. “How is Arris doing?”, he asked and Mother Linai smiled. “Better”, she spoke. “Though he undeniably would have done a lot worse if not for you. Boswitz' men know no mercy. He is at the temple for now, where he will be safe until I can find common ground with Jobdan Boswitz”
“And you are sure you can do that with this man?”, Iiro asked, to which Mother Linai raised an eyebrow. “Boswitz?”, she asked in return. “I think I know the man quite well. He is greedy and ruthless, but he's no monster. In fact, he has helped our church in the past and he treats his employees better than others in his line of work. I am certain he will see reason”
Before she could elaborate, the music grew louder for a moment, before stopping all of a sudden. A dwarf came on stage, appearing from behind one of the coloured tapestries. He was, as all of his kind, short and sturdy, with a long beard. His age was apparent, as Iiro knew that such a shade of grey did not appear with his kind in their first two hundred years of life. He was clad in a lavish suit, though the craftsmanship was, just like the rings that were woven into his beard, not dwarven in nature. Instead, Iiro recognized a similarity with the tulamid decoration around.
“My dear friends and guests!”, the dwarf began to speak. “Just imagine! The golden sun sinks low on the green fields and fertile groves of Mhanadistan, a warm wind blows down from the dunes, themselves covered in dark yellow” He glanced around, the musicians remaining silent, save for the man pulling the strings. It was similar to a lute, as Iiro recognized, yet the tones it produced were entirely unknown to him.
“Beneath the alabaster crenellation of the palace, the scent of roasted pig and exotic fruit wavers through the sultan's pleasure room, where countless colourful cushions are spread out”, the dwarf continued. “Maidens and young men with sun-kissed skin and dark, mysterious eyes tend to the needs of locals and guests alike, delicacies are presented, as suddenly, music sounds, dark drums and bright flutes”
Just as he had said this, the musicians began to play just that, as the dwarf, a wide smile on his face, waved his hand. His servants extinguished the torches everywhere but on the stage itself, except for the small candles on each table. Mother Linai leant forward in anticipation, as the dwarf hurried off stage. In his stead, a young oman appeared. In the current light, the Sharisad appeared to be of an almost unearthly beauty, the kind Iiro had only seen in elves. Her veil was lifted, revealing a flawless face, with full lips and light green eyes, seemingly looking into the hearts and souls of everyone in the room. For a moment, she just stood there, with a blue veil in her hand. And then, she began to dance.
Naturally, there was no way to compare her movement to the plump way they danced in the Valley of Svelt. To call it graceful would be an insult to the way she moved. The gentle swinging of her hips contrasted with the wide movement of her arms, as she danced across the stage, sometimes in circles, sometimes remaining on one spot, where her dance grew almost serpentine. The veil cut lines of blue through the darkness. As the music grew wilder, so did the woman. What begun as merely sensual turned downright ecstatic and the crowd reacted in the same way. Sighing when she sunk to the ground, gasping when she rose again, cheering when she spread her arms. It was not just unlike anything he had ever seen, but unlike anything any of these people were used to.
Iiro had leant forward, having eyes only for her. There was something magical about her dance, something genuinely not from this world. It wasn't just her beauty that downright enthralled him. After a moment, he noticed that despite the heat, the hair on his arms stood up. He blinked, noticing that Vittorio was the exact same. Yveshin and Thea seemed to enjoy the dance in their own way, yet neither elf seemed as enchanted as the human onlookers. Yveshin even narrowed his eyes, as he whispered something into Thea's direction. The other elf hesitated for a moment, before she nodded, a look of excitement on her face.
“Magic”, Vittorio mumbled, as he gave Iiro a wide gaze. The hairs on his arm stood up and he was grinning. “By the gods, she is using actual magic” Thea nodded. “Isn't it wonderful?”, she asked. “I did not expect to see such beauty in your lands, human” She smiled, as she gazed back to the stage. “It reminds me of my people”
In this moment and with a feline streak in her bright gaze, the Sharisad threw her blue veil into the crowd and without him even noticing where she pulled it from, she held a new one in her hand, notably longer than the first and coloured in bright red. Spinning around, the woman wrapped herself in the veil as she sunk to the ground, the imagery clearly reminding Iiro of a closed rose blossom.
“Hah!”, Mother Linai exclaimed. “I would like to learn that some day, my friends!” She patted on her notable belly and grinned mischievously. “Perhaps the Sharisad can...” All of a sudden, she paused, without finishing her sentence and the cut was enough for Iiro to snap out of the trance the dancer had left him with.
“Mother Linai?”, he asked, as he turned to the priestess. Linai was silent. With wide eyes, she stared into the nothingness. Sweat started to appear on her forehead and it was clearly not because of the considerable heat, or the alluring dance of the Sharisad. The dancer herself unwrapped herself from the red veil with a single spin, the fabric circling through the air, like a sudden, darting flame.
“Fire...”, Mother Linai mumbled, her voice barely audible and Iiro had to lean closer to understand her. In sudden panic, he turned to Vittorio, only to see that the man was paying him no mind, being fully immersed into the dance. It was different with the elves. Yveshin saw it first and he placed a hand on Mother Linai's shoulder. Then, Thea pulled herself away from the scene, regretfully, though Iiro spotted concern as she noticed Mother Linai's condition.
“What is wrong with her?”, she asked, but Iiro was only able to shake his head. Was it another magic trick? Whatever it was, he looked around, but there was nobody around who noticed them. The music had grown louder by now and the crowd grew wilder. “Fire...”, Mother Linai mumbled again. “A crowd”
“Mother Linai, you must wake up”, Iiro spoke and he placed a hand on the woman's naked upper arm. Immediately, he pulled the hand back, as he noticed that the skin was not just warm, it was unnaturally hot. Indeed, it turned a light shade of red in this moment and though she seemed absent-minded, her facial expression was proof enough of the great pain she was in. “What...?”, Vittorio asked, having noticed the commotion around him at last.
“Flames... burning cloth and hair and skin...”, the priestess gasped, her voice almost completely drowned out by the music. “Lizard... pyre... pain...” Her face was now a mask of agony, yet safe for the reddened skin, she did not seem to suffer any physical wound. “Darkness...”, she finally uttered. Just in this moment, the Sharisad ended her dance with a breathtaking spin. The music ended with a bang and the woman sank to the ground, covered by her veils.
Mother Linai blinked, as the pain seemed to grow less. Instead, tears welled up in her eyes. “Gods have mercy...”, she mumbled, as she jumped up. Thunderous applause came from the crowd, for the Sharisad and her musicians and only the four around her noticed the horrified look on the face of the priestess. “Excuse me...”, Linai mumbled, as she turned around. Grabbing her coat, she rushed towards the exit.
“Mother!”, Iiro called after her, as he stood up as well. “Come on, we have to go after her” At once, Yveshin and Thea stood by his side and Vittorio sighed, before he did the same. “What was going on?”, the mage asked and Iiro shrugged, as he pushed himself through the crowd, after Mother Linai. “I don't know”, he growled. “She started to hallucinate, I think. Her skin was hot and she was in great pain. She mumbled something about a fire”
“And a lizard”, Yveshin added. “There was magic in that woman's dance. Perhaps it was related?” Thea shook her head. “I don't think magic of such beauty can have this effect”, she replied and Vittorio nodded. “There are certain spells that can have such an effect, but I doubt this is what happened”, he explained. “The Sharisad might have a vestigial ounce of arcane power, I heard of such occasions before, but I am not sure if she can even influence it. Besides, to have this effect, she'd have to physically touch our dear priestess”
They met Mother Linai just outside, where the priestess was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily. Her eyes were widened and tears now streamed freely down her face. Without her smile, she looked just as old as she truly was. Her skin had taken on a normal shade again, but she was clearly shaken to the core. “Mother Linai, is everything alright?”, Iiro asked.
The priestess of Travia hesitated for a moment and the look in her eyes was downright fearful. “No...”, she mumbled. “I am afraid it is not” She closed her eyes. “Twelve, have mercy on us all”, she muttered, before she straightened her back. “What you witnessed was a karmic miracle”
“Of course”, Vittorio spoke. “Karmic energy, that makes sense” He noticed the confused expression of the elves. “Priests of the Twelve Gods can call upon their patrons, to channel the karmic energy within them into certain...” He cut himself off, as he looked at the shaken priestess. “Of course...”, he stuttered. “Go ahead. What did you see?”
“It was the Divine Communication...”, Linai mumbled. “I saw what another priestess saw. For a moment, I felt what she felt” She blinked a tear away. “A dear friend of mine... Sister Laniare, the young priestess of Tsa over in the village of Drakesfield”, she gasped and Iiro noticed how she shivered. “The villagers burned her alive”
As Iiro's eyes widened, Vittorio downright gasped. “By the gods...”, the mage mumbled and he sounded genuinely horrified. The elves, who were not aware of just how severe this act was looked less concerned, but the mention that someone was burned alive still seemed to affect them. A priestess of Tsa... it made no sense. The servants of the Young Goddess were peaceful and gentle, no threat to anyone. Why would she be killed like that? “Mother Linai, I am sorry”, he spoke towards the older woman. “We should immediately inform...”
“No!”, Linai barked, her sudden sharpness catching him off guard. She hesitated and took a deep breath. “No”, she repeated. “The authorities mustn't know. The Church of Praios mustn't know. I knew Laniare well. We wrote regular letters, ever since she spent a few months in Baliho. That began before she took over the temple in Drakesfield just a little under two years ago...” The priestess closed her eyes, blinking away a tear. “Boron have mercy, she was so young. She was in so much pain...”
“What should we do, Mother?”, Iiro asked gently, snapping her out of her horrified condition. Linai sighed. “The Church of Praios will make assumptions. They will jump to conclusions and innocents will be harmed. I would never doubt their lawfulness, but in the current days, they are on the edge more than usual”, she explained and Iiro spotted determination in her eyes. “My friends, you have shown compassion today. I hate to ask, but will you show bravery just as well? I must investigate what happened and for this, I need strong companions, for a journey to the east”
Iiro's eyes widened, but it was Vittorio who replied first. The mage was not smiling, even though he had good reason to right now. “You want us to accompany you to the eastern Meadows?”, he asked and the priestess nodded. “I would leave tomorrow”, she spoke. “We have a carriage over at the temple and I can drive it. With you by my side, I would feel safe to face the shadow that has fallen over Drakesfield on this day”
Vittorio and Thea exchanged a nod, the elf obviously having drawn the same conclusion. “It will be our honour and our duty”, Vittorio spoke, as he extended his hand. After a moment of hesitation, Linai shook it. “Very well”, she spoke. “I... excuse me, I must return to the temple. Preparations must be made and I...” She closed her eyes and sighed. “I need to think over what I have seen. And I need to pray, for all of our souls”
The four nodded and made way for her, as she left the Northstar. They remained behind, silent and unable to fully grasp what had happened. Iiro felt a cold dread inside of him. Something big had happened, something more massive than any of them could anticipate. A priestess of Tsa had to die for it, but deep down, he knew Laniare would not remain the only victim of the days to come.
“Here I am, with all of my problems gone”, Vittorio spoke. “A ride to the eastern Meadows, where we might find the people we are looking for, the protection of the Church of Travia...” He shook his head. “By Phex, why can't I feel even the least bit relieved about it? What Linai just told us...”
“You have seen a lot of the world, my friend”, Yveshin spoke. “Say, how often does it happen that you humans burn each other alive?” Vittorio gulped. “It happens”, he admitted. “But rarely to a priestess of the Twelve Gods, rarely in Meadows and never, never before have I heard of this fate befalling a priestess of Tsa. May Golgari guide her across the Never Sea and may Boron judge her fairly”
“May Boron judge her fairly”, Iiro repeated. “A journey it is then. We...” He cut himself off, as he heard the footsteps. He glanced behind him and noticed the man who approached them, the only one who was out there at this late hour. He was short and wiry, with a plain face and shaggy, dirty blonde hair, as well as a patchy beard. Clad in a long coat, one of his hands was hidden beneath and he approached them just a little bit faster than one would do when walking at normal speed.
Iiro narrowed his eyes. “Who goes there?”, he asked and the man stopped in front of him, with a smile on his face. “Vittorio Crawford?”, he asked and behind Iiro, Vittorio glanced at him. “This is me, with whom do I have the honour”, the mage replied. “Urdo of Gisholm”, the wiry man revealed. “I have a message for you, from Hamid ben Seychaban”
“Oh?”, Vittorio asked, as he stepped past Iiro. The mercenary placed a hand on his employer's shoulder, holding him back. “What does he...?” Vittorio didn't manage to continue. Almost too fast for Iiro to react, Urdo of Gisholm pulled a long, blood-stained dagger from his cloak and took a swing at the mage.
The only reason why Vittorio survived the initial attack was that Iiro had expected it. He pulled the mage closer to his side and what would have opened the man's throat instead barely grazed his cheek, leaving a tiny cut. In the same movement, Iiro pushed Vittorio behind him and he tried to punch the attacker with his clenched fist. He cursed his own foolishness to leave his blade in his room, but there had been no reason to expect any danger in this city so far.
Urdo reacted with inhuman reflexes. Trying to push himself past Iiro, he dodged the punch, as he took a swing at the mercenary. This time, it was the thick cloak that prevented any damage. “Iiro!”, the voice of Yveshin sounded and he turned around just long enough to catch the dagger the elf handed him. Then, he spun around, in time to parry Urdo's strike with his own. By the Twelve, this man was fast!
The attacker glared at him, though he broke into a grin. Glancing past Iiro, who actually struggled to hold away the blade, wielded with unexpected strength, he noticed Yveshin, then Thea, whose mumbling was undoubtedly a spell. “I didn't think there would be so many of you”, he then admitted. “Another time, mates” He jumped back, dodging Iiro's strike without any effort, before he pointed the blade at them. “Stay out of Hamid's business, or we shall meet again!”
Before Thea had finished casting her spell, Urdo had turned around, running down the streets with a speed that could not be natural. Iiro clenched his fist around the dagger, growling in anger, before he briefly glanced at Vittorio. “Are you alright?”, he asked and the man nodded, removing a hand from his cheek, to reveal a superficial cut. “Thanks to you”, he admitted and Iiro looked back down the street. The man was fast, but maybe he could catch up to him...
[Stay with Vittorio] [Try to catch Urdo]