Epsir

When the Flames Die

Maria frowned, she hadn't known what she was expecting Lily to say, but figured a merchant would at least have some clothing. She looked at the woman as she gave her commentary. It was true, the height difference alone made sure of that. Wearing someone else's clothing just didn't feel right anyway. "I'll go there, then, thanks," she said, returning her eyes to slowly panning the room. A bolt of white hair stood out from the crowd, a little girl sitting among friends at a table out on the floor. The likeness was uncanny, and her stomach turned at the idea that girl she was looking at might be Sophia Octavia. There were only so many dire consequences that put a royal in a tavern, and kidnapping was one of them. Her frown deepened as she looked around the room, trying to find someone else watching this particular girl. She wanted the girl to be some random girl, but there were few people matching the likeness of a Lyoki royal in the middle of Mullen Trinan turned back around in her chair, standing up and fetching her cloak from the table. It was time to get clean. "I'll be back in a bit," she said flatly, cradling her wounded arm as she walked off towards the rear of the inn to find her room and some free time. The girl was another problem, she'd have to find out if it really was, and who exactly the youths she was hanging around with were.

When the Flames Die

"Lyok, huh? I heard one of their royals is in town. Part of why I'm here. Foreign royals need to be kept safe while we bicker amongst ourselves." Maria laid her head down on her cloak, longing to walk away and find her room but loathe to give up the only friendly company she'd found since arriving in Keilaudrin. Her other Company was supposed to have returned to the ship which had been carrying them, with the people aboard the list. If the lack of a signal was any indication, Princess Sophia was still outside of their custody and roaming free somewhere far out of her reach in Mullen. If she was hurt, it was on them. If anyone was hurt, it was on them. So far all she had was proof that Lexine Tristan existed and that a double of her had been prepared for some purpose and intercepted. Or, perhaps, sacrificed. That thought was aggravating, it meant that the suspicion she'd felt in the tower was correct, and that both parties had been manipulated. It meant no one was safe. Trinan chuckled to herself atop her cloak, she was worrying about a company of hardened soldiers safely offshore while she was chased by knights, thieves, and madmen in the depths of Mullen. Thinking of herself, she sat up slowly, miming Lily and turning around in her seat. The woman was a merchant, which meant one of her more pressing issues was close to solution. "Know anybody who sells clothes?" Among other things, she still had to worry about reprisal from the group no doubt hunting her. They seemed under the impression that the Scouts were in cooperation with the government, which would have been great if it were true, but it made her a target to them.

When the Flames Die

Maria nodded her head every now and then to affirm that she was listening to Lily, even though the girl had turned her back at some point. Slowly, her head dipped lower and lower on the one hand supporting it. She pulled her cloak in closer, scrunching it smaller on the bar top in lieu of taking the effort to actually fold it. The durable fabric felt luxurious under her hands even as she waited. Esterl, Lily had said. An island south of Estovet, large enough to get the strategic consideration that put it in the textbooks she'd first heard of the country in. "I'm sorry about your parents. It must have been hard running a storefront that young, but you know a trade that you can play anywhere," Maria said, looking up at Lily as she gave her sympathies. Silver wasn't her thing, but she knew that people with the talent for shaping silver well were rare enough that they tended to find steady employment. "You travel far from Estovet? I used to want to, still curious I guess."

When the Flames Die

"Muffin and eggs, sausage, eggs and sausage," the man said, looking along to each of the three in time as he repeated their orders to make sure he was getting them correct, before disappearing with the menu back behind the bar to the kitchen. In short order, he returned with the staple breakfast items, setting the food down at the party's table and leaving them to their morning business. The inn's cooking was by no means sub-par, but it was easy to remember that their specialty was only alcohol. As he left, the morning wave of customers seemed to follow, with a handful of regulars entering the Crossroads, a younger group who seemed to be mostly green sailors, loud as they claimed a spot at the bar. Maybe they'd just gotten back.

"The kind I don't tell," Maria said, sighing. "But you've had this cloak and not started anything so I think you've got your guesses on it already." She chose her words carefully, figuring that after going through her swords the woman was either used to this or incredibly dull for not having any kind of comment or objection to being left in the care of someone else's weaponry. Last night, Lily had been more specific in requesting her story, and she simply didn't agree with ignoring her request over something so simple. "I'm from Lachne, moved away about four years ago in the middle of the war, and now I do my time as an investigator of sorts. That's why I came here, and that's why my nights are so rough. I'm not much of a storyteller, but that's the story." She wasn't much of a liar either, which was why for the most part it was all the truth.

Uldor, Land of Glory. (High Fantasy)

A noise started up outside, the familiar cryings of a town crier. That was good, they had no idea what exactly they'd walked into and starting with the local news made sense to him. Any orientation would have been fine but this one was at least inconspicuous. Rarden looked at the crew, eyes switching between Fitch and Louis and looking for their determination on the issue. Mister Fitch asked the question on everyone's mind, and his shifting eyes continued their routine for a moment before Rarden himself chipped in. "I think it's a good idea. Mingle with the locals, get a feel for what this place is like," he said, looking out the window at the streets of Wortgott. Thirty minutes was not much time to play around with, they would have to decide and pay their way out quickly if they wanted to make it before whatever speech was about to occur started. Whatever the speech was actually about, it was their one good chance at a window into the local culture given the escapade that simply getting food had become. "What do you say, captain?"

When the Flames Die

She'd paid for her room in relative peace, clothing she would have to secure later. Her uniform was an utter write off at this point, although she'd learned some tricks to get rid of stains over the years it was safe to say that this particular shirt's tour of duty was over. As Trinan contemplated her situation, a familiar voice and a laugh from beside her reminded her of her other reason for returning to the bar. "Thanks," she said, taking a seat and cradling her head in her hands. It was tempting to fall asleep then and there but after a moment one of her hands came out and pulled at the cloak laying, carefully considering the weight and the sound of the sheathes within rattling on the wood. "What did I say I'd do in return? A story?" She asked groggily, rubbing her eyes with her free hand. There was nothing like sitting down to remind someone how tired they were. Another party had descended into the lobby, from the back. That was good, there were other people staying here so the rooms couldn't be that bad.

The bartender nearest Sophia looked up with a smile. His morning hadn't reached anything near busy yet, they still had a while before the lunchtime crawl. A breakfast request from a patron of the inn was something they were well equipped to deal with. He turned around and withdrew a folded pamphlet from a rack on the wall behind him, a short list that served as the menu for the various foods they served at the Crossroads. Returning to the group gathering at his bar, he extended his hand to offer the menu out to Sophia. As he worked, he slowly came to the conclusion that the customers he looked upon were likely the distraught last minute entries the night shift had talked about. All kinds passed through cities, and particularly the bars in them, but staff were quick to talk and it hadn't taken long for speculation that they were on the run to crop up. It wasn't his business. "Here you are, ma'am," he said politely, running down the list. "Breakfast we can do. Is there anything else you need this morning or shall I take your order?"

When the Flames Die

We can only hope thistle mean the plot turning a new leaf for our protagonists.

When the Flames Die

Slowly, intolerably, the streets began to fill with people. For the first phase of the public's reclamation of their once darkened city streets, the attention a lone person wandering covered in blood and wine gathered was unbearable, painful even, to someone whose occupation was centered around discretion. Eventually, though, there were simply too many bodies in the streets, and she faded away into the morning in obscurity, except for the occasional set of interested eyes in a crowd. Among the list of things she had spent a night or longer smelling like, wine was not a particularly harsh scent, but still the investigator longed for nothing more than a wash and the time to properly treat her arm. The time for that particular action had passed, but that wasn't on her mind. Mullen looked different in daylight, and despite her long night the view of her first day in Mullen was impressive. There was an entire world of difference between Keilaudrin and her corner of Lachne. She'd learned quickly that the South was her homeland, but she was a stranger in most of it. The Crossroads came up suddenly, as it had before, and abruptly the bloodied Maria turned into the inn, grimacing at its morning crowd. A girl in a red jacket stole the majority of the color in the room, and after that she tried not to stand around gawking at the crowd. Quickly, she walked up to the bar and flagged down the morning shift tender, it was high time that she got a room.

When the Flames Die

And somehow, Day 3 kind of sort of comes to an end/transitions into the next one. What cheerful and wacky misadventures could possibly await our heroes in the future?

When the Flames Die

Maria watched on in silence as he produced a bottle of what she could only assume was the supply she'd asked for. Carrying such a thing wasn't exactly commonplace, but if anything was true about either of them it was that neither of them were commonplace. Slowly, she stooped down to take the bottle from the ground, giving her appreciation with a brusque "Thanks," and a nod. Before anything else could happen, the stranger had walked off. She watched him briefly, still trying to piece together his relation to the rest of the night's events. Clearly not affiliated with whatever gang she'd just pissed off, not an Arcarti. Thomas' men? Unlikely, but they were the only other party aware of her presence. The overwhelming dread the stranger's presence gave her only became identifiable as the man was long gone from her: the simplest explanation was another party. The wounded investigator groaned at the thought, and resolved to make her way back to the Crossroads before stopping to think about it. The gang was likely to make their move as soon as they had a chance to, and frankly she as going to get that drink and a nap in the short remainder of the night before handling that. From the glimmering on the horizon, she could see that the sun was making its slow ascent to the horizon and would be impeding her sleeping habits shortly. Sleep would probably need to wait. A new day was dawning for Mullen, and the clock governing her actions continued to count down.