Jintaru

A New Day, A New Dawn - [Closed / Ended]

Posted for danes, y'all.

Welcome to the thread, you guys. Let's see where this goes.

- Jintaru -

A New Day, A New Dawn - [Closed / Ended]

Jintaru let Nomi speak, the Gods knew the man loved the sound of his own voice. Whilst he pulled on his pipe, occasionally sipped his sake, the goading and arrogance of the many before him was taking a pair of bellows to the fire in his veins. He had to remain calm, the silver-haired bastard wanted him to lose his temper, wanted conflict, lived for it even. Jintaru was not going to give him the satisfaction. But Nomi had crossed a line.

“The man you once knew…is dead, Yanimura. There is no slumbering, nothing shunned nor pushed aside. He is dead. Honour and loyalty are as meaningless as the lives of those who dedicate themselves to those ideals. It took me a long time to learn that lesson, but learn it I have.” Knocking the charred herbs from the bowl of his pipe, Jintaru replaced it within the folds of the bedroll slung around his waist. His tone was calm but inside, he was levelling mountains. “We’ve had a drink together, we’ve exchanged words and it is has been as civil as we get with one another but I swear to you, if you ever speak of my wife or my son again, especially to presume to tell me what have and haven’t done for them, I will take your head from your shoulders. Do you understand?”

He stared at Nomi for a long time. He wanted the man to know that this was no idle threat. He then poured what was to be the last of the sake from the bottle into his cup and let the vessel sit in front him. He wanted to rip worlds apart, he wanted to paint a new atlas with blood and bones. In that moment, he wanted to pile corpses to the heavens and scream curses in the faces of the Gods. But he didn’t. Instead, he took another sip of sake and looked back at the man opposite him. He wouldn’t appreciate the irony of this until later but had Jin Long still been ‘alive’, the almost blinding rage that burned within him would not exist and he would be centred enough to have felt the leaden tone of the forest, to have felt the presence of people hiding within its embrace. But the anger was winning, robbing him of something important.

“I have a better idea, Yanimura.” He began. “I will do no such thing. I will go and speak with Ornestoro, and pick up my next job, with no involvement from you whatsoever. Then I will carry on with my “miserable life” never having to care what you want or why you want it.”

He heard the young woman approach but he sensed her first. A mixture of aroma and energy, royalty, he had spent enough time in the service of others like her to recognise the way the air seemed to writhe over her skin, as though hesitant to touch her. She didn’t belong here, and if she didn’t belong here, why was she here? And why was she so brazen about her own presence? Not a runaway then. Before he could ruminate much further on the appearance of the woman, a man approached the table at which he and Nomi were sitting. In what must have been his early fifties, the man walked with a slight hunch and a shuffle that spoke of gout or arthritis.

“Excuse me, Sir. But a group of men just down the road asked me to give you these.”

With that, the old man placed five coins down on the table in front of Jintaru. The same five coins he had given the boy. The old man shuffled off on his way and Jintaru picked up the coins from the table.

“Perhaps the lad isn’t as quick as I first thought.”

Just then, two blasts came from within the tavern which drew Jintaru’s attention. He snarled silently, he hated guns. A coward’s weapon, a way to distance oneself from killing, of pretending you’re not taking someone’s life. There was commotion inside but it didn’t seem like a brawl. He didn’t really have time to dwell on it. The boy had gone unpaid for his work. This needed to be rectified.

A New Day, A New Dawn - [Closed / Ended]

The herbs in Jintaru’s pipe crackled as he took another long pull. He paused, letting the aromatic mixture circulate around his mouth before snatching a breath in and letting the smoke fill his lungs once more. Tilting his head skyward, he allowed the smoke to soar upwards in a column above his head. Nomi was everything he loathed about mortals, regardless of race, he was crass, arrogant, untrustworthy and selfish. He knew the years had changed him, more so since Chahatsu’s death, but he had never been able to hate the man. Despite the flaws that stood as obvious to him as the man sitting in front of him now. Why could he not hate him? He knew he should.

“You call them imbeciles yet every one of them saved your life on more than one occasion, you demean them yet they were instrumental in keeping you, me and themselves alive?” He stared at Nomi. Why could he not hate him? “You deny your need for them even now…without them you wouldn’t be here to make such snide, obnoxious comments. Neither of us would.”

He glanced as the serving girl vanished back into the tavern. He couldn’t help feeling like she was truly earning her wages today. Jintaru had been here before but he could not help but feel like she had not bargained on such an atmosphere as was there today. He tapped the pipe on the side of the table top and let the embers of the herbs fall onto the ground. He immediately withdrew the pouch again and repacked the bowl. He didn’t light it immediately, instead choosing to leave it sitting in front of his cup.

“There is no challenge with Ornestoro. Did you know that in every conquest recorded in recent D’ol Dathri history, no paenetiri has ever been tortured? People know that they do not talk, unless they want to. They are spared the barbarism of that due to futility. I speak of a ‘way in’ because there is no force on this earth that would make him meet with you otherwise.”

Jintaru saw the look of enjoyment on Nomi’s face and knew it was regarding the man with the dagger who had since discarded his fleeting ambition for violence and acclaim. Nomi always liked displaying power, even passively. Whilst he didn’t acknowledge the blind man’s comment about being rusty, it sank in. Jintaru was neither modest nor a showman and he wasn’t a fool either. He knew his own abilities and he knew that, should the man with the dagger drawn his weapon, he could have put an arrow in his neck before the man’s blade saw sunlight. But he also knew that it would be remiss of him to ever underestimate his silver-haired companion. He had seen men lose their lives before for that oversight. He couldn’t or wouldn’t accept at the time, the amount of enjoyment he gained from seeing his words finally alter the painted grin on Nomi’s face when he spoke of his dealings with Ornestoro. It was childish but it amused him.

“You say sell-sword like the words leave a bitter taste on your tongue, old friend…” He emphasised the words, he wanted Nomi to know they were not meant. “Perhaps a little more sake would help you digest them a little easier. Loyalty dragged me to Rikkimaru’s side whilst my wife was murdered in our home, the honour I taught my son cost him his life whilst I was away fighting alongside you and those ‘imbeciles’, as you call them. These things are ephemeral, they mean nothing.” He was conscious not to awaken a finally hushed atmosphere so he spoke in whispered staccato. “These things cause good men to die slow deaths at the hands of bastards. The man you once knew? He no longer exists. His tears and blood turned his son’s ashes to ink in the dust, he allowed the flames of his funeral pyre to scorch his skin, burn away his past life and his family name. Jintaru ‘Jin’ Long is dead. I am simply, Jintaru.”

After striking the flint across the top of his pipe again, he drew deep, coaxing the herbs into smouldering once again. Pipe clasped between his teeth he picked up the cup of sake. Trading one for the other, he drained the cup and put it back on the table. After Nomi returned the scroll fragment to his satchel beneath the table, Jintaru exhaled a lungful of smoke. He watched the veins beneath Nomi’s skin react to the parchment, like his blood became charred. He revisited the question of why his former comrade was unarmed. He found himself concerned about the answer.

“So you’ve spent the last five years in one of the largest orcish kingdoms, rooting around in caves for a fragment of a scroll? Why? And don’t insult me by pretending it is some idle curiosity.”

He was no longer interested in the sake but drew heavily, almost reflexively on the pipe between his teeth. Each question he asked himself seemed to multiply itself, asking more and more questions. All Nomi’s talk of fate and ‘having to be here’ annoyed him and made him wonder if this had all be orchestrated by the blind man in order to involve him in something in which he wold otherwise not have been interested, or even would have stood against. He had to focus on an answer he could reach.

“Ornestoro would know what this is and would be able to tell you your ‘next direction. But without me, he will not meet with you. Certainly won’t speak with you. This is not the usual thing for which I contact the man.”

Jintaru smiled to himself. He had been foolish.

“This is why you waited until after I sent the boy to show me this. You let me make contact with him.”

A New Day, A New Dawn - [Closed / Ended]

A wry grimace wormed its way across Jintaru’s face, he knew that Nomi could tell that his remarks and attempts at goading a reaction from him were sinking in but he’d be damned if he was going to make it easy for the blind man.

“Why does my having a business partner come a surprise to you. Until recently, you’ve been the antisocial one."

His own jibe released, Jintaru filled the small porcelain cup with more sake and took a sip. It truly was good sake but after knocking back three cups in no time at all, he decided to slow the pace down. He swilled the liquid around the ornate vessel, watching the miniature tidal waves roll around its edges. The liquid danced and roiled within the cup and he mused very briefly on how elegance could be found in the simplest things. Without looking up, he continued.

“As far as visiting Ornestoro, I wouldn’t bother. Ornestoro doesn’t trust nor do business with strangers on account of the fact that the last stranger he met had been sent to kill him. Without a way in, he would never meet with you.”

Jintaru allowed what Nomi had said about seeking information on him being a waste of time to wash over him. He would come to roll the phrase around his mind for some time afterwards, however. Nomi had the habit of doing and saying things deliberately to evoke a reaction from him and this could very well have been simply one of those things. Nomi knew a lot about him, after all, they had known each other for more years than Jintaru cared to recollect, but he didn’t know everything. At least, he hoped he didn’t. Then came the challenge. This permeated the vague reverie in which Jintaru had momentarily shrouded himself. He was centered again. He placed the stem of the pipe between hi teeth and drew on it. The amber of the burning herbs pulsed within the bowl and he drew the fragrant smoke deep into his lungs before letting it billow slowly out over his lips.

“Perhaps you could stop me getting to him, perhaps you couldn’t. But I know, as quick and skilled as you are, you couldn’t stop an arrow. I could have one nocked, drawn and loosed before you could stand. But don’t worry, Yanimura, I have no interest in harming this man on a whim. And I agree with you, only a coward would carry a concealed weapon. I’ve made no secret of mine, Nomi. I walked up with my sword belt on and my bow on my back. I have concealed nothing. However, only a fool would warn his opponent before he attacks.”

He smiled again, taking another sip of sake. He looked at Nomi’s arms and face. Despite being scarred and battle-worn, his silver-haired companion still had an air of youth about him, a look that he had found missing in himself when washing in the stream earlier that morning. The tracks and welts on his face were deep, in places, wounds that may very well have killed him on another day. The smooth, shining skin of scars ran roughshod across his brow, cheeks and jaw. A small sliver of his upper lip was missing completely and he knew his body told a similar tragic story. He wasn’t ashamed of them, rather the things he had done in order to get them. She would have been ashamed, her and Chahatsu both.

“Your arrogance in ever matter is only matched by your ignorance in this one, Yanimura. I didn’t keep the Czentulu’s gold. I had no need for it. It turns out Ornestoro put a higher value on keeping his life than did those of had sent me to take it. I sent their gold back to them, along with the heads of the men they had sent to accompany me. I had no moral standpoint in that war or any war I have fought in since. I didn’t care who was victorious, I still don’t.” He drew on his pipe once again. “What I care about is how much a person is going to pay me to aid in that victory. There is no such thing as betrayal when loyalty is bought.”

He sat back, calming the fire in his blood once again with another deep draw on his pipe. It was times like this that made his grateful that he had included lavender in his herb blend. When the man revealed the scroll fragment, that fire went out. It was replaced by a cold urgency, not fear, but a distant cousin. He was suddenly alert and things started to make sense. When he first emerged from the forest and felt Nomi’s presence, there was a pall in the air, subtle but noticeable. Now, with the source of this aura sat right in front of him, it was an onslaught for his senses. This wasn’t just magic, this felt like old magic, the type that was around at the time of the Gods. It practically bled power, its energy spilling through the cracks of the table. He sat back and let his hands fall from the table and into his lap.

“Where did you get this and why in the Hells did you bring it to me?”

A New Day, A New Dawn - [Closed / Ended]

We've decided to take a more free-form approach the world building aspect of this RP. We're running a 'build as we go' format so, we new lore, settings and races etc reveal themselves organically, we'll add them in here. We're also including this for any new folks that feel like helping us build a world by joining in the RP, so all the key information is here for catch-up.

Gods

She of the Veils
One of the pantheon of Gods. Although not exactly a god of death, she stands as more of a guardian of the dead, a protector of those who have passed. She is often depicted faceless, with multiple arms - although the exact number differs depending on depiction - each holding a veil. It is this aspect of her mythology that has lead to the prominence of placing of veils over the faces of the deceased in many of the World's burial ceremonies and rituals.

He of Banners
Often depicted on horseback, he is a God of battle and death in combat. He is viewed a benevolent and is worshipped by armies throughout the World. He is synonymous with honour, courage and righteousness through glorious conflict. In addition to often been shown mounted, he is rarely depicted without his long bow. The mythology surrounding him is that he was such a skilled archer that he could fire and arrow into the heavens that would never fall to earth. He is the patron of soliders.

She who Nurtures
She is also known as Mother of All, depending on where her worshippers come from. She is the patron of children and new life, and is often depicted seated and pregnant. She is seen as one of the most powerful gods as she is seen to oversee the circle of all life from human down to insect and plant. She has been bastardised by a small sect of necromancers who worship her, misguidedly believing that she has a hand in their work to reanimate the dead.

A New Day, A New Dawn - [Closed / Ended]

Ignoring Nomi’s jibe about his hair, he poured himself another cup of sake from the bottle and replaced it on the table top. For all his foresight and blackened wisdom, there were some things the silver haired man simply would not understand. Even if he could understand, Jintaru decided there would be limit on the soul sharing he was willing to do with his unwelcome companion. He heard Nomi’s musing on the boy’s agility and knew just what Nomi meant. You think his arms are as agile as his legs? Nomi clearly wondered if he could swing a sword well, if, instead of seeing out his life as a kitchen hand, whether the lad’s true calling was combat.

“I pray to She who Nurtures that the lad never has to find that out.” He said.

For whatever reason, Nomi seemed full of questions, the man always seemed to be, some more intrusive than others. But Jintaru realised that he had nowhere else to be until the boy got back from his errand, so he wasn’t going anywhere. Plus, Nomi was certainly right about one thing; the sake was good. He lifted the cup to his lips again and drained the liquid from it.

“Ornestoro is, what I suppose one might call, a business associate of mine. He’s what the D’ol Dathri would call a paenetiri, We have no comparable word for it in our tongue but it translates roughly to a whisperer, a trader of secrets. He is a peddler of information.”

Jintaru filled his glass again as laughter erupted from the table accommodating the group of men. He had noticed the man’s hand on his dagger and had kept him in his peripheral vision ever since. It seems the air around that table had grown more relaxed. Whatever joke or anecdote had been told, it was a big success. The girl emerged from the tavern with three steaming bowls containing the hearty stew and large chunks of flatbread. It was well received by the hooting men but Jintaru noticed the hand of the man who had been holding the dagger linger a little too long on the girl’s arm and prolonged eye contact which clearly made the girl uncomfortable. She smiled, with the awkward look of someone born into servitude not wanting to offend whose to whom she was catering by showing her revulsion and fear. The moment between them didn’t last very long as she soon scurried back into the tavern. Jintaru allowed his muscles to relax but remained wary of the men. Although he never really looked away from his companion, his attention returned to Nomi.

“A little over a year ago, I was hired by the old D’ol Dathri Czentulu – the ruling house in D’ol Dath – to help them crush a rebellion. They would have had me fighting skirmishes in the desert, routing rebel armies and eventually breaking down the resistance. I told them that open warfare like that may stab at the body of the serpent, letting it die slowly. I offered to cut of the head.” He drained his cup again. “Ornestoro was that head.”

Returning his cup to the table, he sat forward, leaning his crossed forearms on the table. He glanced over Nomi’s shoulder at the city, wondering absently how long it would take the boy to get there and deliver his message to Ornestoro. He wondered if he could keep up that speed all the way there. Nomi saw it in the boy but Jintaru didn’t like to consider it, but with the right training, the lad could be one hell of a warrior. He mentally shook the thought away.

“Now, when I need information about certain topics, I go to Ornestoro.”

Jintaru pulled out a simple long-stemmed wooden pipe, a leather pouch and a small stone from within the bedroll around his waist. The pipe had a thin layer of faceted stone around the rim of the bowl, the same stone as the tiny flint. As he opened the pouch, an earthy but sweet smell of herbs permeated the air. Distinct among the orchestra of scents were tortoise sage, honeywort and wild lavender. Packing the pipe with the blend of dried herbs, he put the pipe into his mouth. Picking up the flint, he scratched it delicately against the stone on the pipe. With each scratch, sparks leapt from the rim and into the packed bowl. It took a couple of strikes but the herbs suddenly caught and a whisker of smoke began to dance up from them.

A New Day, A New Dawn - [Closed / Ended]

Glancing around at the looks of concern and, in some cases, fear, on the faces of the other patrons, Jintaru allowed himself to take a breath and let his hand fall from the pommel of his sword. He wondered what she would have made of his outburst. She’d have been disappointed, he never would have lost his temper were she still there. Perhaps that was part of the problem, she wasn’t. He let his eyes pan back to the smug, silver-haired man sat opposite him.

“Aren’t we both to long into this for you to be playing the feeble blind man card, Yanimura?” He said, adding his own sneer to that of his companion. “We both know that I know you better than that.”

He glanced over to the waitress who still lingered near the table. It wasn’t a smile he gave her but something close enough to it that he hoped it would clean the last remnants of worry from her soft features. He hadn’t meant to scare anyone and she seemed to be the only one in the vicinity who still seemed on edge.

“Miss…” He began. He saw her flinch, he tried harder with the smile and she approached the table. “Do you have any young men or boys working here? A kitchen hand or housekeeper, perhaps? Someone quick and reliable?” He asked. “You can tell the owner I am willing to pay him for the boy’s time.”

She hesitated before nodding.

“Yes, Sir. There’s a boy that works in the kitchens preparing the game for the cooks.”

“Excellent, send him out as soon as possible and have him bring another bottle of sake and a fresh cup, please.”

She nodded again before scurrying away. He turned back to face Nomi. He was silent for a time. He had allowed the silver haired man to goad him into losing his temper once and didn’t want to rise to any more of his jokes and insults. He did his best to stifle the flames. Conversation around them had returned to normal now and Jintaru let his elbows come to rest on the table in front of him. Somewhere over his right shoulder, a flock of ravens whirled skywards, shrieking their wordless curses to the heavens.

“War never ends, Yanimura. You know that as well as I do. The Gods know we’ve both seen more than our fair share of it. Darkness bleeds, it’s about the only thing either of us ever showed any real aptitude for! And it never ends. The colour of skin differs and the continents change but He of Banners continues to play. Even during peace time, in the charred memories and broken minds of those who have seen it, lived it, it never stops, the march continues.”

He thought once more about the boy soldier who had ridden past shortly before. Innocence murdered. He was brought back round by the sound of the kitchen boy approaching. He was no older than twelve. As requested, a fresh bottle of sake was placed on the table and a white porcelain cup was set alongside it. She boy hovered, unsure about where to stand or quite why he was there in the first place. To his credit, the boy spoke first.

“You sent for me, Sir?” He said, rounding the table to stand at the end of it, between the two men.

“Yes.” Jintaru began. “Do you see the city there, away in the distance?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Could you run there and back before nightfall?”

“Yes, Sir. I was able to run faster and further than my older brother by the time I was nine, Sir.”

“Good.” He replied, pulling a coin purse from the fold of his tunic. “Then I have a job for you. I want you to run as quickly as you can to the city, try not to stop if you don’t have to. Find a tavern called the Tattered Standard and go inside. Once you’re inside, ask for a man named Ornestoro. Do you know what a D’ol Dathri looks like, dark skinned, bright eyes?”

The boy nodded.

“The man you are looking for is D’ol Dathri. When you meet him, I want you to pass on a message. I want you to tell him ‘the ploughshare grows bored of the fields’. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Repeat what I’ve asked of you.”

“I’m to run to the city and find a man named Ornestoro, in the Tattered Standard, and tell him ‘the ploughshare grows bored of the fields.”

“Sharp lad.”Jintaru nodded. Taking five coins from the purse, he handed them to the boy. “Once you have delivered the message, simply walk away and run back here. The rest of your payment will be waiting for you upon your return. Go now.”

With that, the boy turned a ran off. He was right about one thing, he was fast. It wasn’t more than a minute before he was lost amidst the trail dust and heat haze. Jintaru picked up the bottle of sake and uncorked it. Leaving the upturned bottle where he had left it, he filled the fresh glass, raised it to his lips and drained it. The cool, sweet liquid ran over his tongue and down his throat. He exhaled.

“So…what do you want, Yanimura?”

A New Day, A New Dawn - [Closed / Ended]

Jintaru stood for a while looking down at Nomi and he knew that, in his own way, the blind man was staring right back at him. Out of his peripheral vision he saw the serving girl hesitate nervously before re-entering the inn and vanishing from sight.

~She’s afraid…smart girl.~

Eventually he took a seat opposite Nomi but did not pick up the drink his unwelcome companion had poured for him. Never once did he take his eyes off him. A fire burned behind them, from deep within him. This was not the inferno of fresh passion or fury, it was the smouldering cinders of long standing hatred, a contempt that had festered and grown with time, something now that no amount of retribution or penance could tame.

He heard the sound of hooves approaching from behind him. He never took his eyes from Nomi, he didn’t need to. Six mounted men. Bamboo and steelwood armour. Two of them, archers. Doubtless a vanguard returning from one of the Eastern strongholds. The city was in the process of recalling its troops from the war. With fresh governments in place, courtesy of the triumphant, they had no further need for grunts from far off lands, regardless of how influential those men were in winning the damned war. As the cadre of soldiers rode past he saw the war-torn and broken expressions on their faces. Among them was a male, no more than seventeen years old, armour off-set and ill-fitting around not fully developed shoulders. When he left for war he was a boy but war doesn't make a man. War never creates, it takes its toll from each man, woman and, in this case, child, it touches. He will never be a man now, he will always be a soldier. The stain of battle will cling to his heart like pitch.

~He will grow to be a fearsome warrior one day. Then he will die alone and in pain. Never having lived.~

This pattern of thought was getting too close to home and he shook the face away the face that had risen up in his mind. The anger flared but he exhaled it. He turned back to face the blind man opposite him.

“You call me ‘old friend’…I think our definitions of that phrase differ dramatically.” He said, not hiding the venom in his voice. “I had a real friend once, and it has never been you. You weren’t the one who was there when I buried my wife. I had nobody there, two years ago, when I buried my son!” His voice raised but he battled it back down to a hiss. “And now, your toxic presence finds me again. You come with your drink and your jokes and talk to me of celebration?”

Jintaru picked up the cup of sake. Ceremoniously he held it out over the edge of the table and turned it upside down. The clear, sweet liquid inside pattered onto the ground, cloying the dirt and dust together in a pool. Shaking the last remnants from it, he returned it, upturned to the table.

“The only reason I would drink with you, is so that I could get so drunk, on your coin, that I would vomit better friends than you.”

He allowed his breathing to calm and he centred himself again. If there was one thing that was predictable about the man whom sat opposite him, it was that he was unpredictable. Jintaru’s hand slid quietly beneath the table top to the pommel of his sword.

A New Day, A New Dawn - [Closed / Ended]

“Praise to The Veils for keeping them safe another night. I pray to He of the Banners, take me soon, so I may see them again. Death, don’t stay your hand.”

He inhaled slowly and held his breath. Eyes still closed, part of him prayed that the mantra would be enough, that when he finally opened his eyes, he would no longer be here. Yet another prayer he made that went unanswered. He still lived. Lying on his back, he found himself looking up at the patchwork canopy of the forest above him, fresh sunlight defying the dense foliage to dance on the forest floor below.

“Another time, then…” He whispered.

He centred himself, senses settling into tune with the world around him. Birdsong and the industry of the natural world ebbed and flowed in his ears until it nestled into a muted ambience over which he could think clearly. Getting to his feet, he made his way up a mossy escarpment to a small waterfall, tumbling its way down a series of miniature rapids made by smooth, polished boulders. Kneeling down he scooped a handful of the clear, glacial water from the stream and washed his face. He hesitated. As the ripples made by his hands calmed, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror of the stream. He barely recognised himself anymore. Although he had to concede, that was almost the idea. He wondered what she would think of him if she could see him now. His jaw tightened.

His face was a labyrinth of scars and valleys. If faces told stories in their imperfections, his was writing new chapters every year. Where once had flown a mane of dark hair, sat a shaved scalp, riddled with yet more scars, these ones self-inflicted and accidental. He had some regrowth but it would do another day before he would have to take a blade to it again.

Returning to where he had bed down for the night, he gathered his things. Rolling up his threadbare bed-roll, he wound it tight, threaded it with a leather lanyard and wrapped it around his waist. He strapped on his sword belt and quiver and slung his longbow around his shoulder and chest. Patting himself down, he found a new tear in his brown trousers. Another spool of thread would have to go on the list of things he needed. The Gods knew that a new pair of trousers was a luxury he neither wanted nor could afford. The perils of sleeping rough. He had to return to civilisation for certain supplies and he knew he needed work. Sell-swords don’t make much from trees and bracken. He made off down the slope, following the stream to where he knew it would end.

He smelt the inn before he saw it, the chimney stacks bellowing smoke which carried with it the smell of rabbit and seasonal vegetables. Normally, that would light the heath in the belly of any traveller, but he had eaten rabbit daily for months and even the promise of fresh, well prepared vegetables couldn’t prevent the bile lashing at the back of his throat. Breaking clear from the undergrowth and onto the path, he stopped. There was something else there, more subtle than the smell of food but unable to be masked by it. A sensation somewhere between scent and knowledge. Something, or rather someone, familiar. Familiar doesn’t always mean friendly.

He didn’t want to speak the name for fear that its mere utterance would make the man’s presence a certainty. His brain took the choice away from him.

“Nomi…What are you doing here?"

It wasn’t fear that gripped him, at least, not fear of the man himself. More a fear of what his appearance would mean. For both of them. He centred himself again, he couldn’t avoid the inn, he needed supplies. Anyway, his senses could be wrong.

But they never were.

Sure enough, the sight of the blindfolded man sitting casually outside the inn proved his senses right again. He found no comfort in that fact as he approached. He knew it was senseless to try and avoid Nomi, it always was. He was the one person whom would not be fooled by his change in appearance. After all, it mattered little to a blind man, even one as gifted as the serpent that was coiled at the bench in front of him. He didn’t sit down, he didn’t speak, he merely stopped in front of the table, let his hand fall on the pommel of his sword and waited. He knew it wouldn’t be long before Nomi broke the silence.