---

Ceolfric stared blankly at Aleka as the man rattled off his tedious list. He didn't even know what half of that meant himself, much less why it was relevant to mercenary work. Why would he have a sir name? He clearly wasn't a knight. His occupation wasn't exactly something he cared to brag about, he had no real idea of where he was born, no living kin, nor any idea what Aleka had meant by his comment about Ceolfric's tongue. It was an oddity, to be sure, but Ceolfric had no idea who gave it to him. Rakas? Umbraxakar? Was he expected to just guess?

"Classi-what?" Ceolfric repeated, mostly to himself. Judging by the newfound lack of background noise, he had the pianist's full attention now, which could easily prove troublesome if they found the details of his life disagreeable. Then again, if he lied about being some unremarkable farmhand, he'd appear soft to his new employers at best and blatantly dishonest at worst. It would be easier to pass himself off as a poor sinner looking to better himself than be caught in a lie later on down the road when people began to question why Farmer Joe's scarred up nephew had an intimate familiarity with irregular warfare and disrupting caravan routes.

"I was a brigand up in Dranir. That alone should answer most of your questions. My family is dead, I'm good with a sword, and I have no qualms or misconceptions about violence," Ceolfric admitted flatly. He kept his eyes on Aleka, hardened and determined, refusing to acknowledge the gaze of the blue-skinned Aetherborn boring holes in the back of his head. "And the only thing I know about my tongue is that, if I so will it, people do what I order, when I order it. If that's unsatisfactory, I'm afraid that's as informative as I can be without embellishing the tale a little." As loath as he was to reveal his trump card without assurance that the pianist wouldn't unravel the floor underneath his feet, it would serve him little if the elf was anything like the geomancer. Aleka might make a decent hostage, but Ceolfric could clearly overpower him through force of arms alone, without resorting to arcane means.

---

---

Lilaan halted as she passed through the doors, more than a little surprised by the difference between the building’s quaint exterior, and its lavish interior. Plush couches, soft rugs, and beyond the comfortable amenities there was still the piano, the fireplace, and the lovely tapestries hanging on the walls. Even the masonry was artful, with wood and stone worked into an artful aetheric material.

It seemed the bounty house had been wearing a mask of its own.

She tried not to gawk—best not to look like a vagabond, especially if it was true. People like the hedgeman might be able to waltz into a high-end place like this looking like they’d just crawled out of the dirt—which was also true—but Lilaan had a losing complexion that wouldn’t afford her such leniency. Kyreth did too, unfortunately, and he stuck out more than most. A very cold part of her thought it best to create distance, but she stamped that down. He’d been kinder to her than most people, even other Tainted. As it stood, their goal was the same, and she meant to seem them both achieve it.

Of course, there was no rush. Skirting near the clerk’s desk, she overheard the hedgeman give some of his details. His name was Ceolfric, and while she was already well aware of his feelings towards violence, and his past as a brigand was all but tattooed on his forehead, she was still surprised to hear that he was from Dranir. Lilaan was no stranger to brigands and bandits, she’d been robbed many times in her travels between towns and on the backs of trade caravans. Plenty of the heroes whose tales she wove were born from fights with roving warbands and bloodthirsty cultists—which was, funnily enough, where plenty of them also died.

A brigand and an aetherborn. By his description she might not have believed it, were his tongue not proof. She tried to recall if she’d ever encountered anyone like that, but most of the scuffles she’d seen were matters of clashing swords, not wicked enchantment. Then again, with a talent like his, it might have been difficult to tell. Perhaps she ought to have been concerned that he was angling for the same work that she was. Instead, she found herself woefully intrigued. But that was a matter for later.

For now, she returned to Kyreth.

“Well, what do you think? Charming, isn’t it? There are certainly worse places to find work. Pity about the company,” she said, nodding over to Ceolfric. “But I believe this might be the safest we’ve been all day.”

---

_{@Obscene Symphony}

At the end of the day even Eila abandoned him for the lure of the Bounty House. Surely he'd expected her to at least lecture while she walked, but she hadn't said a single word as she left him alone on the bridge. Ermes rolled his eyes as he pushed himself off the bridge's wall and stuffed his hands into his leather jacket pockets. Annoyance ran across his face as the shadows on his head danced furiously like a writing corpse. He was the last to enter the Bounty House, having missed the initial interaction but seeing that the loud mouthed dolt had clearly done something to garner everyone's attention. A man with blue tinted skin stood by a piano, watching as the brutish man (apparently named Kale-frick?) gave out his information to someone who looked equally as done with him.

Lanky and blanky had coupled off once more. Again speaking amongst themselves while the other worked with the receptionist. One of the questions had caught Ermes's attention however, his eyes narrowing slightly before he let out a rather loud yawn of boredom and exhaustion. He didn't exactly like to talk about his employment, though he figured there were ways around it. He could easily say the truth while omitting important details, all he was at this point was a messenger so saying as much wouldn't be a lie. His inattentive babysitter however seemed more fixated on the circle etched into the floor ahead of them. He knew enough to know he didn't know jack about whatever that was, nor was he being paid to find out just yet.

Ermes closed the door behind him, finding a spot behind the lanky man, pressed against the wall but with his eyes clearly glued to the back of his head. He didn't care for how much those two had been whispering since they'd arrived here, nor how silent everyone had seemed to have gotten. If something was going on, he'd make sure he had plenty of time to get out of dodge. While his gaze was mostly fixed on the pair, he kept Eila in his periphery, making sure she stayed in sight as he listened into kalefreaks interview. It appeared he had a way with words, literally, that kind of magic could be useful in his line of work. But it made him a likely adversary when trying to grab bounties. If he could Charm him away from one he'd wanted, they'd have a bad time.

While Lilann kept her awe mostly in check, Kyreth had no such skill. On the contrary, his eyes were saucers of featureless white and his jaw nearly dropped when he saw the inside of the House, gaping at the ornately carved wood and stone, the plush rugs and tapestries, the fine furniture, and just how clean and pristine everything was. By Selene, there was even a working piano! He’d only laid eyes on a piano a few times in Buscon, and they were always long broken and carved up with lewd graffiti, relics of optimistic owners who thought you could bring something that sophisticated into the Dregs without it getting destroyed. Of course, this was nothing like those hole-in-the-wall joints; the closest thing he could liken the Bounty House to was what he imagined the common room of an expensive inn would look like, but that he’d never seen firsthand.

As Lilann led the pair toward the desk, Kyreth started to feel even more out of place than usual, the typical self-consciousness that came with being Tainted amplified. He’d definitely never been somewhere this nice, and the sight of it all made him feel filthy, like he would soil anything he touched. It took him a moment to realize he was tiptoeing.

But his swivel-headed Buscon instincts wouldn’t be ignored for too long, and Kyreth soon snapped out of his stupor when the half-elf behind the desk to which Lilann had navigated them started speaking. The bored-sounding man credited the Bounty House to “Lord Malcer Mystralath”, and the name sounded familiar. Of course he recognized the family name – everyone knew the names of the major families of Othard – but Lord Malcer particularly stuck in his mind, and he didn’t think it was because of the Bounty House itself. Kyreth’s brow furrowed. Where had he heard that name before?

He stood by with Lilann to the side of the desk as the hedgeman – Ceolfric, apparently – gave the half-elf his details. Brigand from Dranir, eh? The only things Kyreth knew about Dranir were embellishments from bards’ songs about a harsh and frozen mountain range filled with warring factions and monsters, and by his experience with Ceolfric, that all seemed true enough. Strange to hear about the brigand’s supposed power to make people obey; in lighter circumstances, Kyreth might have laughed. He seemed pretty good at making people do what he wanted by pointing a blade at them, if that was what he meant.

As they stood there, presumably waiting so Lilann could give her details next, Kyreth struggled mightily to stand still, feeling very ill-at-ease. Not only did he feel like he stuck out even more than normal in such lavish surroundings, but that nagging agitation from before still hadn’t left him; in fact, the longer it went on the more he suspected that the feeling wasn’t nerves at all. He’d been scared out of his wits before – hells, traveling as a Tainted could put a man on edge for weeks at a time, and it definitely had for him – but this just wasn’t quite the same. No, the longer this strange nervous feeling clung to him, the more he suspected that the thrum of his heart and the quivering of his stomach were something else entirely. Excitement? He doubted that very much. Was hunger getting to him? He’d barely eaten two meals over the past two days, but this didn’t feel like hunger. Whatever it was, he didn’t like it. Even if it wasn’t organic nerves, the fact that the feeling only cropped up on the way to the Bounty House didn’t endear him much to the place.

He thought about leaving again, but decided against it. Yeah, he’d technically satisfied the bargain he’d made with himself and gotten Lilann safely to the House. But as it seemed there was lots more formality to go through before she was set up with the House, and he still didn’t entirely trust the place, Kyreth figured it was best to stay until Lilann was settled. Then he would leave.

“Well, what do you think? Charming, isn’t it? There are certainly worse places to find work. Pity about the company, but I believe this might be the safest we’ve been all day.”

Even though he was actively thinking about her, Kyreth was surprised to hear Lilann speak up, realizing only then that he got lost (unwisely) in his head again. Although he felt markedly less comfortable than Lilann seemed to, Kyreth couldn’t help a hint of a smile at her quip, the expression looking almost foreign to his face as he nodded.

“It’s definitely beautiful,” he answered honestly, keeping his voice down as if afraid that speaking too loud would bring the stonework crashing down around them. As for the comment about safety, Kyreth wasn’t so sure. It was certainly nice to be around a few more witnesses, the House denizens didn’t seem to wish them any harm (if anything, the blue-skinned one at the piano seemed pleased) and he’d heard of the Bounty Houses’ policy of not turning out Tainted, but that feeling gnawing at his gut wouldn’t let him put his guard down so easily.

Besides, it seemed he wasn’t alone in his suspicion.

“I hope so, but…” Kyreth replied quietly, trailing off. Gesturing to the door, he pointed Lilann’s attention to the richly-dressed woman who stood rooted at the entrance, stiff and pallid. She looked like she saw a ghost, and seemed to be the only other occupant of the House who looked as uneasy as Kyreth felt.

At that moment, though, Kyreth became aware of a body behind him; the shadow-headed boy, who was glaring at him from his place at the wall. Kyreth had to give the boy some credit for sneaking behind him without him noticing; another reason not to let himself get awed into a stupor every time he saw something expensive.

“I’m sorry, would you like to go ahead?” Kyreth asked the boy, gesturing for him to move past the two Tainted. He understood unease, but the kid looked almost angry. Had he done something to offend him? Kyreth looked between the boy and the woman by the door, suddenly wondering why they had separated.

“Is your… friend alright?” He asked the boy quietly. It dawned on him that maybe the woman was afraid of him; she probably saw through his disguise by now and responded the same way many women did when faced with a Tainted: muted fear. Maybe that was why her charge was so annoyed with him.

Aleka nodded as Ceolfric spoke, quill writing small, neat lines across the blank page. It continued far longer than the brigand spoke, the briefest pauses only when the half-elf glanced up at new faces wandering in through the door and then at the pianist whose excitement grew more and more visible with each and every person entering. “This information is necessary in deciding what jobs we consider you capable of handling, including what connections and influence you may wield as well as what connections and influences wield you. Both the Bounty House and Lord Mystralath strive to maintain excellence in their service and reputation; sending the wrong person to a job reflects poorly on both.” Aleka explained as he procured an ink blotter and carefully rocked it over the ink.

The blue elf finally shoved himself off the piano bench, smoothing out his vest before making his way to the amassing group with a wide smile. “Welcome, welcome friends! Such an interesting cast of characters walking through the doors this morning. And from the looks of it,” The man took in the glow on Kyreth’s face, the shining orange of Eila’s eyes, and the writhing mass of shadows with blatant glee. “Most of you are aetherborn, though I’m not sure about our fine masked friend here. You are safe here; if you wish, you may remove your mask. We have no qualms about any and all joining our little venture! Oh but my manners. My name is—”

“One moment, Mr. Laidon.” Aleka interrupted, ignoring the dramatic flourish the elf was building up to. “If you will please move off to the side Ceolfric. I will continue to process others and then will address you all at the same. Next individual interested in joining the Bounty House please step forward. The rest of you may continue to be entertained by Mr. Laidon until it is your turn.”

The elf had been holding both arms out, seeming frozen as he waited for Aleka, before performing an unnecessarily grand bow. “Cerric Liadon, merchant by trade, primordial aethornborn, and Master of Coin for the Soft Haven Bounty House.” He continued as if never even interrupted. “I am truly looking forward to a profitable relationship for us all! If you have worries or concerns, I would be absolutely tickled pink to assuage them!”

Ermes arched an eyebrow at the tall man's question. He wasn't sure if he was playing dumb in an attempt to have Ermes drop his guard, or if he truly could somehow be this dense. He decided it was more likely to be the former. He softly clicked his tongue, making a low tch sound. "I'm fine right here thank you. Besides, you all made it here before me. It'd be rude to just step ahead." He also didn't trust having his back turned to the pair, but he wasn't about to announce that to the room. When pressed about Ei's behavior Ermes simply shrugged. He glanced over towards her, taking in her expression once again before turning his attention to the two cloaked figures before him.

"I couldn't tell you. I only met her shortly before you lot, but I know she's studied and clearly of some form of wealth. Maybe she's just taking in the interior of this place? Or perhaps she has differing opinions on what style of sconces belong where." Ermes pressed his foot against the wall he was leaning on, slowly pushing himself forward like a vampire rising from a coffin. He took several steps closer towards the pair, lowering his voice only to a whisper for the two. "I'm more curious as to all the silence and whispering going on than the drool that's likely to accumulate at the corner of her mouth." He said as he nodded towards Eila.

Their conversation was cut short as the pianist began to address the room. If he was anything at all it was the exact opposite of Ermes. Loud, bright, obnoxiously grandiose. He wasn't sure how well they'd get along, but he doubted it truly mattered. The half elf cut in, interrupting the display to call on the next of them to sign up, Ermes glanced around the room to see who else would step forward, and to see if the masked woman would reveal her face. He gave her a bit of a pointed look, almost to say you're up princess while keeping his attention towards Kyreth hoping to see if they'd actually respond back to him or use this open invitation to step away from yet another conversation with him. He didn't try to look menacing, though he supposed that his relaxed face was off-putting enough to keep others at bay. So he tried to manage a small smile. The tiniest of curls at the left end of his lips giving him a lopsided smile.

---

Ceolfric narrowed his eyes at Aleka as the man gave his explanation. It wasn't quite moralizing, nor was it outright derogatory, but there were haughty undertones there that he wasn't fond of. Or maybe he'd read too far into it; the words themselves were sensible, but the flat affect of the half-elf made any subtext impossible to read. There was a very strong possibility that there simply weren't any unspoken implications at all and Aleka was just weird.

The blue-skinned elf was far more welcoming, in the way Ceolfric assumed a spider might be welcoming to a fly. He was clearly getting some kind of weird kick out of all the new arrivals, though the resumption of his introduction after Aleka had cut him off gave Ceolfric at least a bit of an idea why. Merchants always had a weird forced friendliness about them; it was how they manipulated their customers. For some reason, some of them thought the same thing worked with people who had a blade to their neck. Still, if he was the resident treasurer, Cerric likely had a vested interest in keeping competent people around to line his own pockets. Not exactly a malicious motive, even if it was self-serving. Besides, whatever a 'primordial aetherborn' was probably didn't need to resort to trickery and deceit to incite a man's downfall.

Ceolfric stepped away from the desk upon being dismissed, thankful that Aleka hadn't pressed for more inane details that he had no capacity to provide, and turned his attention back to the motley crew that had followed him inside. None of them had gotten uppity upon overhearing what he was - and he didn't think them nearly virtuous enough to not have eavesdropped - but they were all whispering to each other like conspiratorial children, and the elven woman looked spooked by... something. Maybe him, maybe the locale. Maybe he should find out.

"If you have something to say, say it," He grumbled toward Eila, "Mister Liadon, in his boundless hospitality, did offer to assuage your worries, after all." There were a few questions of his own he wanted answered, quite frankly. The bandit lazily shifted his gaze between the elves, now resting loosely on Cerric. "I, for one, would like to know if the Bounty House was aware of the creature that roams the forest and leaves giant claw marks beside camping travelers."

---

@Hero

---

Lilann followed Kyreth’s attention to the boy acting as their shadow, which was much more of a literally apt description than would have been with others. He was clearly aetherborn with hair like that—if it could be called hair—and his overall demeanor wasn’t particularly bright even by comparison. He seemed upset, or wary, both of which she was no stranger to. If she could have collected a bounty for every time someone got uncomfortable when two Tainted conversed, she could buy the pants right off Lord Mystralath’s powdered, noble ass.

Lilann noted his quick dismissal of the woman, and tilted her head as he stalked towards them. Part of her wanted to be upset with his bold-faced suspicion, but she’d been around enough blocks to know that aggression was not a game the Tainted were invited to play. Besides, the boy looked young, at least younger than her. So, she gentled herself.

When Mr. Laidon finished speaking, she slid gracefully up to the boy, close enough to look right up at him from behind her mask. As he had done, she lowered her voice to a whisper, just for them.

“I find curiosity quite compelling, don’t you?”

And then just as swiftly, she twirled around and made for the desk as Ceolfric stepped away. The bandit finally got to his point, which, she had to admit, she was curious about as well. For the time being however, the most important thing was to secure employment for herself—and Kyreth. Of course.

Clearing her throat, she decided to take Mr. Laidon’s offer of good faith and removed her mask. With a polite bow and a smile, she approached Aleka at his desk.

“Good morning. My name is Lilann, surname: Storyborn. I come from Dranir, I have no living kin, and for work I tell stories—I even get to be in them from time to time. You'll find my influence anywhere people talk about their heroes, living and dead, though you'd be hard-pressed to find mention of me by name. As for my classifications, I’m afraid I don’t quite know what you mean, either. But, if it helps, I can move things with my will once I’ve touched them. And this—” She turned then, and gestured right at Kyreth, motioning for him to come forward. “Is my close friend, whose employment is packaged with my own. A boon to the house, I assure you, to have us working together in Lord Mystralath’s interests. Come, Kyreth, tell him a bit about yourself.”

---

_{@Obscene Symphony@Trainerblue192}

Cerric clapped his hands together in delight as one of the newcomers engaged with him. “That we do! When we finally decided on this beautiful locale, the residents of Soft Haven were quick to bend our ears with tales of The Rancor of Morn Og. As I’m sure you will recall, the Siege of Soft Haven raged for nearly a week before the arriving forces of Finnagund bravely broke their ranks and cut down their leaders in barely half a day. Morn Og was the orc leader of this army of curs and when the commander of the royal forces cut him clean in twain, Morn Org’s dying breath was a curse imbued with so much loathing and hatred, it gave birth to a demon.” Through the story, Cerriac made simple gestures with his hands, bubbling water swirling together between them to create vague silhouettes of the scenes he described. “Everyone gave us a different detail: more eyes than a spider, more teeth than a shark, more claws than a wolf, all tucked into the body of a massive stag trailing the stench of burned flesh and rot.” The water warped into the likeliness of such a creature and then froze at Cerric’s command, the ice sculpture in his palm.

“Of course, Katya took to the tale like a fish to water. She’s been hunting this beast since we first heard of it. A tale tale indeed but there is power in stories, true or not. As our hired labor came in, we kept constant watch. A few claw marks here and there, spooked a few men away alright, but nothing more than that.” Cerric offered up the sculpture for Ceolfric to take, even as it started to drip. “So the short of it is yes, we are aware of it but no, we are not concerned. While we’ve never seen it, It’s made little more than threatening gestures and should it decide to take a more aggressive approach, Katya will finally have the opportunity to rend it limb from limb with all the gusto of a gluttony at a feast!” Cerric finished brightly, addressing Eila next “But by all means, my Lady, please share your worries. You look as if you’ve seen a ghost!”

“Classification of aetherborn. If you plan to take some of the better paying opportunities, I recommend you educate yourself on the basics of aetherborn. A better understanding of your skills will serve well to increase your chances of survival.” Aleka commented as he wrote, his words entirely without inflection. “Liliann Storyborn, Asvari in race, no kin to speak of, storyteller, and another Dranirian. A Genisian Aetherborn. I would recommend Lady Silvantris as a potential mentor but she finds those in your profession exhausting on a good day. On a bad one, you may very well find your clothes trying to strangle you.” Aleka turned his attention to Kyreth as he carefully blotted Liliann’s page dry.

“Another Asvari, I see. Your name, if I may, and an elaboration on the details of your partnership.” Aleka stated as dipped his quill in his inkwell.

The shadow-headed kid was just about as personable as a Buscon youth, too; which was to say, not very. He didn’t seem happy about being addressed, and wasn’t about to budge, either. Kyreth wasn’t surprised. If anything, it was a very tame reaction to sharing close quarters with a pair of Tainted.

What was unusual, though, was how chatty the kid was. Kyreth had come to expect little more than silent glares of warning or insults and thrown garbage, not a whole interrogation. The kid was suspicious of the pair of them, sure, and Kyreth supposed he couldn’t blame him; hell, even he would get a little uneasy to see two strange Tainted whispering among themselves. Still, most normal people were either too smart or too scared to confront a Tainted alone.

The boy took a step forward, and Kyreth stepped back, reflexively glancing around for the exits. The boy didn’t look like he could do much damage, but that was irrelevant when Kyreth had no plans of fighting back. But even as he shrank away, he couldn’t deny a little bit of his old self was chafing under the boy’s advance. A familiar indignation brushed him, thinking this kid was awfully confident for someone his stature in a room full of strangers, confronting a pair of Tainted two-on-one. And what right did he have to look at them with that kind of scorn all over his face?

Lilann must have been feeling it too. True to their shared nature, she didn’t seem to take kindly to the boy’s display, instead delivering a vaguely intimidating line before taking her turn with the bookman. Then, almost as if Selene herself was looking out for him, the boy’s attention was drawn away by the piano player’s grand display, allowing Kyreth to disengage. He rejoined Lilann near the bookman’s desk. This situation was getting far too dicey for his liking. But as if she knew he was about to make his excuses and take his leave, Lilann pulled him into the conversation with the only words she could possibly have said to make him stay.

“This is my close friend, whose employment is packaged with my own.”

It was a remarkable act of kindness that stunned Kyreth into silence, dumbly stepping forward at Lilann’s direction. It was such a flawless trap that Kyreth might have smirked if he wasn’t so confused. Why would she do that? Was she trying to pin down some security for herself by keeping him around? Or was it really just a selfless act? She’d been so kind to him in their brief time together, but it was so hard to trust a face so much like his own, Kyreth wasn’t sure what to think.

But there was no time to think; Berta told him once that Selene only helps those who deigned to help themselves, and he’d be an idiot to refuse the Mother of Outcast’s guiding hand, no matter his reservations.

“Y-yes, of course – good morning,” he greeted not-at-all smoothly, a little unsettled by the dead tone of the bookman’s voice. He heard him refer to the two of them as “Asvari”, but what the hell was that? He wasn’t about to correct the man – being mistaken for anything other than a Tainted was well in Kyreth’s best interests – but he’d never heard of any race by that name before.

“My name is Kyreth… um…” And he stumbled on the first hurdle. Shit, he didn’t have a surname! “...Berta…sson. Sorry— Kyreth Bertasson,” he clumsily recovered, using the first name that came to mind. Poor old Berta was the closest thing he ever had to family; hopefully she wouldn’t mind him borrowing her name.

“Lilann and I travel together. She finds us opportunities, and I fetch things from tall shelves,” he continued, lying smoothly as he played off Lilann’s lead. He chuckled, an awkward, close-lipped affair, hoping the joke would sell the facade of familiarity between the two of them. And hopefully not insult Lilann in the process.

He cleared his throat. “Um, right. I’m originally from Buscon – erm, in Relfin. No next of kin either. I used to be a farmhand; I don’t have many skills except mending roofs and fences, but I’m a hard worker, I learn quick and there’s no job too small for me.”

Small cogs had begun to wind inside his mind. Taking in the motions of the lanky person now known as Kyreth. He hadn't fully anticipated him to step back while he went forth. Though it now marked him as an anti confrontational person. Someone of his stature should've stood tall, towered over him, and attempted to use it as an advantage to force him to shirk away. But Kyreth simply matched paces back as if reflexively moving in a manner he'd been used to his entire life. His partner however had much more confidence and control. Only later to admit to her uses as a proverbial bard having placed her either close enough to altercations to actually lend credit to his boast or having her had only listened to tales of those she met and using her charismatic showmanship make her seem more confident than she really was.

Ermes couldn't help but listen in to what she was relaying to the receptionist. Key words standing out from Buscon, to Genisian, to the word Asvari being used twice. Once for her and another for her tall companion. His attention was split however, listening in and out to the tale Cerriac was tell Ceolfric about the beast that roams the lands. A supposed curse laid upon by an orcs final breath in a battle long ago. His answer however wasn't particularly satisfying. It amounted to little more than Yes we've heard of an issue and will handle it eventually. Ermes decidedly turned his full attention towards the blue pianist and away from Kyreth, arms crossed in his leather jacket as he had a slight pout. His right hand fiddled with the pommel of his sword as he thought about what to say.

Finally he blew air towards a tuft of shadow that moved past his eye. He raised his hand up slightly before speaking, an old habit from back home that hadn't left him even after the years had passed. "I have a question." There was a short pause as he debated on if he should truly ask. It felt almost humiliating to do so but finally he spoke out again. "The man over there referred to those two as Asvari or something. What does that mean? Is it like another Classification of Aetherborn or?" Ermes lowered his hand once more, shoving them both into his pockets.

---

So he was correct in his assumptions. The mystery creature was no run of the mill beast, but a demon unbound and vengeful. Though that begged the question of why an entity born from an orcish warlord's death-curse did nothing but posture to sleeping travelers. Ceolfric had been party to the summoning of mere imps with more capacity for violence, and with the summoner dead, he could think of nothing that might keep the Rancor from indulging in its desires. Cerric seemed strangely blasé about the whole ordeal, though Ceolfric couldn't tell if that was due to his confidence in this Katya person or lack of belief in the folk tales.

Ceolfric hesitantly reached out to accept the sculpture after it was offered, not keen on touching the product of another's magic even if it was born from mindless theatrics. The simulacrum likely held little resemblance to the actual creature anyway, and was thus a useless trinket that the elf should've dispelled after he made his point. His eyes drifted from the sculpture to the runes etched on the floor again. A tempting topic to inquire about as well, though the others' concerns seemed to trump his in order of importance, based on Aleka's comments. At least, most of them; the elven girl's terror apparently stemmed from nothing more than the rocks she saw in the water, for gods' sake.

"I assume these classifications are a shorthand way of explaining capabilities," Ceolfric surmised from Aleka's assignment of Lilann as a Genesian, whatever that was. If that was the same as the mountain-mover back in Dranir, he might need to watch himself around her. "Either way, I take it someone here could explain the system to us, if it's so pertinent to the job." He noted Freckles - Kyreth, apparently - refused to offer even a description of his abilities. Forgetfulness perhaps, but with all the talk of aetherborn, it was more likely deliberate. The glowing specks on his face didn't lie, so he clearly must've been hiding something, though he didn't carry himself with the confidence powerful men did.

---

---

Lilann listened carefully as Aleka took down her information. In a way it almost felt like she was given more than she gave, something she knew better than to believe, especially when it came to information. Genesian, Asvari, the mysterious and allegedly irascible Lady Silvantris. These were things she’d remember.

“Well,” she said. “It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried to strangle me, all the better if it’s only over my profession.”

Her attention split then. The lion’s share went to Kyreth, to his own exchange with Aleka. Part of her lamented having doffed her mask; his cover name was sloppy, but the way he slid so easily into the lie of their partnership would have had her beaming with pride. Instead, she shot him a good-natured scowl cracked with a grin, to help sell the story. Smart boy.

A liar too, intentionally or by nerves. But it was clear to her—and likely to many of the others—that he’d neglected to mention being an aetherborn. His glowing freckles had outed him to her last night, and while the ample light of the Bounty House didn’t make him quite so radiant, she doubted he could pass as your average Tainted for very long.

Not that anyone should want that.

Nonetheless, if that was his angle, she was committed. Their false-partnership was about to be ratified, so she figured she ought to do her part to keep it up. Kytheth Bertasson. She’d remember that, too.

On the other end, Cerric finally answered the question that had led her to the house at sword-point. It was an excellent story, and one she didn’t buy for a second. Cerric was a skilled orator; he described things in a deliberate way, he put emphasis where it mattered, fluffed his language at the right times. In her experience, the most frightening, gruesome, and terrible parts of a story were often the most embellished.

Did she believe in demons? Of course—she was Tainted. Did she believe this Rancor to be the spawn of a warlord's dying fury? Eh.

Cerric didn’t seem to, either. Normally she would have considered it poor form to discredit one’s own story, but he wasn’t speaking to a tavern of half-drunk adventurers, or an alley of slighted gamblers. They were future employees. No reason to lie to them—their wasted time came out of Mystralath’s wallet, after all.

Still, as he dropped the melting sculpture into Ceolfric’s hands, she couldn’t help but giggle. If they’d come all this way for the demon to be nothing more than a local fairytale, she’d be disappointed, but likely not more than him. That was enough.

Delight sprawled plainly across Cerric’s face as more and more people began to volley their inquiries at him. “A wonderful bouquet of curiosities you’ve handed me and yet sadly, I am ill prepared to answer them. Let’s start with what I can answer and then we’ll drag in our favorite scribe to shore up the gaps in my knowledge. Aetherborn are divided into three categories: Primordial, Animas, and Genesian. Primordial aetherborn manipulate ambient aether to create elemental effects, Animas aetherborn manipulate others’ aether to affect the mind or body, and genesian aetherborn infuse their own aether into objects or aetheric constructs! A brief overview but were we to delve into the depths of aetheric theory, I’m afraid I’d have to enroll you in the Royal Academy.” He ticked off questions on his fingers as he answered.

“As for you, young lady, I frankly just learned the name of the plants shortly before we completed the Bounty House. Lord Mystralath is an avid collector of aetheric flora and shipped a small portion of his collection here. A poorly laid stone on the bridge led to one of our porters stumbling and some of the Lord’s collection found itself at a loss for wings as it flew over the edge and dove into the water. A week later and the Lord could only marvel as this mirage coral seemed to take a liking to its new habitat.” Cerric shrugged, ticking off another finger. “Not quite as exciting as the Rancor of Morn Og but far more real.”

“Cerric! Where in the hells did Katya go stumbling off this time?” A woman called down the stairs, irritation laced in her words.

“She answered the call of the unknown, of the adventure in her blood, as she does every night, Aeowyn.” Cerric shouted back up the stairs, receiving a slew of curses in response. Cerric grimaced at the foul language. “My apologies. Aeowyn is many things but the picture of grace is far from one of them. Unless she wants something from you but then she’s more of a terrifying shadow.”

Meanwhile, Aleka was studiously ignoring the situation and turning his head as if mulling over a puzzle as Kyerth spoke. The silence between him and Kyreth stretched until finally Aleka spoke. “Kyreth Bertasson. Notable skills are mending fences and roofs, willing to learn, fine with small jobs. I think you’d likely do best with a steady contract or apprenticeship so we’ll look at what options we have available after I conclude all this.” Aleka stated as he wrote in his book. “Unless your traveling companion is against it, at which point we’ll need to have a different conversation.”

“Aleka! Would you be so kind as to enlighten us to the meaning of Asvari? Such a pretty word I’d have no difficulty remembering but after having traveled the entrity of Othard, never have I encountered it. Is it a Verazian phrase?” Cerric interjected before Aleka could demand another person to his desk.

“It is what we call the Tainted.” Aleka nodded, waving at Lilann and Kyreth. “‘Tainted’ is a term derived from religious persecution. Othardian Gods call them blasphemers, heretics, and traitors but we hold no faith with Azaiza and her court. Veraz was founded by a collection of exiles. We would be doing them, and our God, a disservice to turn our backs on your Tainted and so we offered them a new name when some sought succor on Virazian soil.”

A slow clap echoed through the room. While Aleka was elaborating, a halfling woman descended the stairs silent as a ghost. No taller than 4ft, she lounged in plain but sturdy traveling clothes. A cloak had been thrown across her shoulders and it draped down to conceal her left side. She wore her hair long, tucked neatly behind long tipped ears that reveal some touch of elven ancestry, and her features were twisted into a sarcastic sneer. A fan drifted nearby, waving on its own accord to offer her a cooling breeze.

“The only succor they need is six feet of piss soaked dirt.” Aeowyn scoffed as she pushed herself upright, barely making noise as she crossed the room to Cerric, who seemed unphased by the halfling’s declaration. “What horse shit are you feeding these shit stains? They aren’t your moronic customers that you have to woo to purchase your second rate goods so let Aleka do his gods damned job and go finish balancing our accounts.” She stopped her way across the room, ignoring the rest of the group as she tapped one of the doors and it flew open. She threw a short farewell to Cerric over her shoulder and the door slammed shut.

“Next.” Aleka gestured for Eila or Ermes to take their place in front of his desk.

“Aeowyn Silventria, everybody. Don’t cross her and she won’t make your bedsheets crawl down your throat in the middle of the night.” Cerric said cheerily, picking up a little bell on one of the side tables next to the couch and ringing it. Footsteps could be heard of the stairs from far up the Bounty House before an older human woman, gray and black hair tucked neatly into a cloth around her head, came down in Mystralath finery.

“Good morning, Mr. Liadon. How may I be of assistance?” She inquired after offering him a curtsy.

“Vivian, darling that you are, would you be so kind as to collect Aleka’s records book for Lord Mystralath’s perusal once he has finished adding them all? I’m certain our Lord will be quite interested in our newest additions and I would loathe to make him wait to satiate his curiosity.” Vivan offered another curtsy and stood patiently at Aleka’s desk, a polite smile firmly fixed in place as she waited.

With Lilann’s help, it seemed Kyreth successfully convinced the bookman of their relationship – that or the man didn’t care enough to press for the truth, either of which was fine by him. The mention of a possible apprenticeship made Kyreth’s eyes go wide; apprenticeship, like under a carpenter or a stonemason or the like? The opportunity to learn a skilled trade was rare enough for most folk, but for a Tainted it was just about unheard of. Could he truly be so lucky? Lord Mystralath was a generous man indeed if this was the sort of employment put on offer by the Bounty House.

Kyreth’s brief moment of hope was interrupted, however, when the shadowy-haired kid raised his voice to ask after the meaning of “Asvari.” Perhaps it was optimistic of him to hope that nobody would question the odd name and he and Lilann could avoid scrutiny a little longer, but of course it was no use. Their eyes didn’t lie; by now surely everyone in the room knew exactly what they were.

The bookman’s explanation, on the other hand, was fascinating. It wasn’t ideal that he pointed them out plain as day to be Tainted, but he spoke of a land named Veraz founded outside the influence of Aziaza’s court, where even the Tainted could find refuge without persecution. Could such a place really exist? Kyreth had heard of no such land, but that didn’t mean anything when he knew little and less about the lands outside of Buscon, let alone the wider continent or what was beyond it. But if a haven like that was out there, why hadn’t every Tainted in Othard already fled there? And why would the bookman – Aleka – ever leave?

That question would be left for another time, if ever at all. A shiver crawled up Kyreth’s spine when a sarcastic clap sounded from the staircase, a tiny woman descending with a fan following behind her and spite on every feature. “The only succor they need is six feet of piss soaked dirt,” she spat, the familiar vitriol ringing like a dull throb in Kyreth’s ears. His eyes fell to the floor out of habit, angling himself away as if pretending she wasn’t there. Honestly, it was a blessing that this was his first such encounter since arriving at Soft Haven – even if he hadn’t actually entered the city walls – and he would take it as such, thankful that cruel words were the only thing she threw at the pair of them before taking her leave.

The Bounty Houses were renowned for their tolerance of all types; Kyreth just had to make sure he didn’t cross paths with that woman outside its walls.

Kyreth stepped quickly away from Aleka’s desk as he called for the next in line, ushering Lilann to follow him to a spot where they wouldn’t be in the bookman’s way. As a show of good faith, he decided to sit in one of the plush chairs against the wall as the blue-skinned elf – Cerric – jovially introduced the spiteful woman as Aeowyn Silventria.

“Wait, Silventria? Wasn’t that— was that just the mentor he recommended you?” he asked softly, looking quizzically between Lilann and the bookman across the room. He had to make a concerted effort not to whisper; no need to draw more bad attention. Of course, given they were also more likely to be overheard, he chose his words carefully. “...Are you okay with that?”

---

And with that, it seemed Kyreth’s initiation was a success. She’d expected as much, of course, but for it to go so smoothly was a pleasant surprise. Less pleasant was the sudden and blatant outing of them both as Tainted—a displeasure she felt and saw reflected in Kyreth. The shadowy boy was proving to be a bit meddlesome.

Nonetheless, Aleka’s explanation of Veraz was intriguing. It was also, probably, complete horseshit. A place where her kind might live unburdened by the baleful gaze of Azaiza may very well exist, but nowhere in the world was benevolence free, or without intent. Tainted, Asvari, it didn’t matter what they were called, people would find their reasons.

As if to demonstrate that very point, a halfling joined them from upstairs, and the first thing she did was wish them death.

Lilann sighed, but she was good at hiding her own frustration, even without a mask. Kyreth was more emotive, turning away like a kicked puppy. She watched the woman go, studying her carefully; the elvish ears, the utilitarian clothes and the hovering fan. Aeowyn Silventria. This name she would remember.

It seemed even places like this were no better than the taverns of Dranir, just prettier.

While the prim young woman introduced herself as Eila, Kyreth ushered Lilaan aside, taking a seat in one of the chairs. It appeared he’d noticed Aeowyn’s name as well, and his concern, while touched up for any eavesdropping ears, was still nice.

“Am I thrilled by the idea of being mentored by a bigot? No, I can’t say that I am.” she said, nonchalant about the volume of her own voice. “But I doubt I’ll have to worry about it. If she doesn’t kill me outright, she’ll likely just refuse anyway—and then kill me.”

Really, it was no worse a hand than any other she’d been dealt. Even without a mentor this was still a job in a place with good stories. She grinned at Kyreth. “But enough dreariness, look! You’re in! Steady work, apprenticeships; how many Tainted in Relfin can say they landed a chance like that? You did good, I think, coming here.”

---

_{@Obscene Symphony}

Ermes had a hard time believing that Ei was so shaken up by some plants out by the bridge. But then again, almost everyone seemed to have started acting weird as soon as they'd gotten to that part. Perhaps it was because their shared goal of reaching the Bounty House safely was no longer an issue, or maybe those strange plants held more to them that Ermes could even begin to think about. Whatever the case, he decided to listen closely to any and all explanations this flamboyant excuse for a coinsman had.

He'd started with something that appeared to be simple for anyone with coin. Aetherborn. Three classifications, that made it easy. Luckily for him Eila had already told him which he was, a bit of knowledge he'd thought to use to his advantage while signing up. While the others hadn't a clue what theirs were called, him knowing his own might have given him a slight edge in getting bounties. Making him appear to be more educated and trained than the others save for Eila. Now, unfortunately, it seemed that it wouldn't matter. A fractal of knowledge that could be seen as piggybacking off of Cerrics information.

He quickly moved towards Ella's question about the underwater plants. Another story that was most likely filled with embellishments and hot air. Though Ella's curiosity for it prompted Ermes to make a mental note to ask her more about it later. What special conditions did this plant need that made it so strange to see out here? His thoughts were cut short as a halfling woman came blustering out yelling after the blue man though not much more came of that as Aleka began to answer his question. It appeared it was an idyllic word for the tainted, causing Ermes to give pause as he looked back over towards Kyreth and Lilan. There was no malice in his gaze, though his eyes scrutinized them heavily as they worked from head to heel.

A large part of Ermes wanted to walk right back up to them. Encircling the two tainted in a curious dance as he'd heard tales the demon spawn had harsh features like tails that ended in a point, or horns to gauge their enemies, fangs that when bared could strip the flesh off one's bones. But these two goons didn't look like they could strip the flesh off a ripe fruit let alone another person. Without thought he'd taken one step closer to the pair, only to be interrupted by Aeowyn. She seemed extremely distasteful towards the two tainted, as well as perhaps with life itself based on her demeanor. But she soon left leaving an air of tension as Aleka called for the next applicant.

Eila was quick to beat him to the punch, making Ermes the last to sign up. It was only fair as he entered the building last, but it did leave a sour taste in his mouth. The shadows cast by his dark hair seemed to overshadow his eyes, giving him a gleam of malice, his crossed arms stared at a fixed point while he fiddled with his swords pommel once more. He had no idea how to introduce himself, whether his previous work would be a boon or a hindrance in his newline of work. He wasn't here for them, but if the name alone could help him out he wouldn't waste a second using it. After all that's what people with power do every day, use others' names to get themselves ahead.