Fantasy Ties That Bind (Starcaller x Erica)

[Starcaller]

Erica

Prologue
​

Oakstead, Eastern Moors

"Sword fighting is like dancing. A good fighter is a good dancer, and a good dancer can learn to fight easier." Was what he'd taught her, once. Felt like forever ago, now, thinking back to the time when all he'd give her to train with was a stick. And she'd complain and try to reassure him that she could handle a real sword, becoming upset at the seeming lack of trust on his behalf. Thinking back to it, those were the only times when Charlotte really complained. She'd always been eager to prove herself, ready to undertake tasks that were way above her capabilities without as much as a second thought. Sometimes, it was her reckless acts of bravado that had brought both her and Revvyn in trouble, but no matter how many times it would happen she never seemed to want to learn from it. Revvyn could hardly count the many times when he'd threatened the girl to leave her to deal with the mess she made, though each time he found himself to be a liar. He couldn't, didn't want to leave her alone, even as she'd reassure him that things were in control. He worried for her, even if outwardly all he did was scold her. Though he could hardly ever blame her for her behavior when he looked himself in the mirror.

Those times were so far now, and that little girl who barely stood taller than his waistline was now almost as tall as he, though still a head under him. The years had washed over both of them, and while they turned Charlotte into a fine young woman, they made Revvyn's hair a little whiter. No longer the dark blond that crowned his head, vigorous, a lion's mane flowing in the wind. The stubble on his chin was even greyer than the strands of hair on his head. Though his body yet retained its peak shape, broad shoulders and a toned structure earned through years upon years of hard work.

Tonight, both him and Charlotte ditched their worn armors in favor of festive clothing. They were guests of the most revered kind and the people of Oakstead celebrated their presence with wine and song. Wilkes, the mayor himself, had urged them to stay the night, in spite of their plans to head out to Ravenport. And they'd accepted, for such chances were very few and far between. People rarely took their time to be jolly, many were too burdened with problems to even smile. But not the people of Oakstead, no. They were of a different breed, and hardships would hardly discourage them. And it seemed that their positive outlook had been rewarded when Charlotte and Revvyn stumbled into their small town, just in time to help them with their wyvern problem. The creature seemed to have taken a liking to the people's cattle, fearlessly strolling through the fields near Oakstead and choosing its meal at will. The locals had gathered a hefty sum and implored many a traveler for help, yet of them all it was the duo who had the courage to face the beast.

Now, with their pouches full, with a nice trophy head that would surely sell good in Ravenport, Revvyn and Charlotte took the time to enjoy the celebration. It was the Day Of All Crops, and they were lucky enough to be there at the right time. Booze was plenty, the music was loud and right now the crowd was ecstatic to watch them dance. They clapped in time with the rhythm, cheering as the two moved, the song picking up pace as if to offer an even greater challenge, one which both stood up to as they did to any other challenge. Such was their nature, and neither would've had it otherwise. The song picked up pace, and so did the clapping and cheering of the bystanders, that lasted until the song came to an end, accompanied by a loud round of cheers and applause that ushered in yet another song. Though before Revvyn could properly tell Charlotte that he wanted to retreat for a moment, the mayor's son, Albert, approached the two, gazing first to Revvyn. "May I?" He asked, obviously wishing to have a dance with Charlotte. Revvyn in turn gazed at Charlotte for a second, before stepping away with a nod. "Only if she wishes to." He responded.

"My Lady?" Albert asked now, turning his full attention to Charlotte and offering his hand. Revvyn had already departed, heading to one of the empty seats at a long table, the same table where the mayor himself feasted. Quickly enough, one of the girls who served at the tables poured him a goblet full of wine, an act which was rewarded with a quiet "Thanks" from Revvyn, who sat back and relaxed against the chair. His attention was grabbed by mayor Wilkes, who by now had enough to drink to make his tongue loose, which only resulted in him talking over and over. For now, Revvyn could relax and cast aside his worries. There was time for those later.

 

[Erica]

Life was good.

A stopover in Oakstead had led to an unexpected job, and a lucrative one at that. A wyvern was a formidable foe: enough to scare off the other mercenaries ahead of them. But not Charlotte and Rev. They came prepared, and thus they had accepted the job after exchanging one quick, knowing glance.

Such was Charlotte’s life, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Even hours later, the elation of the fight still tingled on her skin. Springing their trap had kept the beast grounded, but avoiding its stinger and jaws long enough to land a clean kill had required teamwork. Charlotte didn’t mind that Rev had been the one to deliver the killing blow. This time his blade had pierced the monster’s head, snuffing out the light in its eyes; next time, it would be her blade. They didn't keep track. (Well, not anymore. Not officially.) Either way, the people of Oakstead were safe and happy, she and Rev had gotten paid, and it was the Day of All Crops, some sort of harvest festival that meant plenty of wine, music, and dancing. Knowing how rare such moments were, they decided to enjoy themselves.

A skirt felt odd after years of wearing leather pants and armor; almost as odd as wearing her hair loose. In a fight, her hair was a liability, so she generally kept it braided and pulled back from her face. Unbound, it fell down to her middle back in auburn waves, not that anyone could tell as she and Rev danced in the center of the large barn that had been cleared for the festival. Tables lined with food, sweets, and wine conspired with musicians and open doors to transform the place into a light-hearted paradise. It seemed the whole town had turned out, spilling out into the streets, full of joy and relief. She laughed as she and Rev finished their dance, knowing how they must look. He, the grizzled warrior; her, the young, muscular woman who fought at his side. Most people assumed her to be his daughter: she didn’t correct them. It was close enough to the truth. He had, however begrudgingly, raised her in all the ways that mattered. Kept her safe, taught her what she needed to know (even—perhaps especially—when she didn’t understand what she needed), bound her wounds, and finally let her fight at his side. She couldn’t imagine any other life.

So when the mayor’s son, Albert Wilkes, asked Rev for permission to dance with her, Charlotte’s smile blossomed, quick and conspiratorial. She knew the kind of answer Rev would give even before he drew breath to reply. It wasn’t that many men asked her to dance. After all, dancing wasn’t their usual pastime, and she wasn’t the kind of fair, soft-bottomed and rosy cheeked lass that men normally flocked to. Her nose had been broken more than once, and she could wrestle most men to the ground. (In fact she had, on occasion, done just that.)

No, it wasn’t experience with the question that made her sure of Rev’s respectful approach. It was that Rev knew her and trusted her to fend for herself. That hard-earned trust was her prized possession.

Turning to face Albert, she slipped her hand in his and executed a sloppy curtsey. About her height with a warm if somewhat rounded face, tan skin, and bright blue eyes, the major’s son had combed his shoulder-length brown hair for the festival and donned his finest clothes. Too refined and soft to be her type, she took his hand more for conversation than any spark of romantic interest. To her surprise, she found his hand was rough from helping in the fields, prompting a smile. When he spotted her amusement, he swept her up into a quick dance that made her laugh with delight.

Following his lead was easy, for the musicians adopted more reasonable pace, designed for couples to join in. And so they did, kicking up dust around the barn. Albert’s hand slipped to her lower back, and she grinned when he felt the blade stashed there.

His steps faltered, but he recovered quickly, his wide eyes relaxing as he led her around the room with a bit more caution. When he spotted her amused smile, he laughed. “Are you always armed?”

“Yes,” she answered quickly. “It comes with the trade.” When he fell silent for a moment, she smirked. “Why? Does it bother you?”

“No,” he said, but she noticed his judicious placement of his hands. At least his dancing was no less enthusiastic once he let the music take over again.

Eventually the song ended, leaving him a little breathless. He bowed to her, and she curtseyed again—just as poorly without a care for how it looked. He didn’t seem to mind, either, for he soon asked her to join him for a drink. She agreed, following him to a table outside. They had seats reserved at the table with the mayor, his father—and Rev—but Albert chose a different gathering place outside the barn, away from both the older men’s eyes. A group of young men and women were laughing nearby, drinks in hand. Soon enough one of the servers filled their cups, earning a quiet “Thanks,” from Charlotte.

“So,” Albert began hesitantly. “You’ll leave tomorrow?”

Charlotte grinned. How many times had she had this conversation? The implied longing from someone she’d only just met, the insinuation of life’s brevity. Sometimes it was sincere, a young man’s craving for a little fun after a brush with death. Albert wasn’t a star-eyed boy, however. He was a mayor’s son, a few years older than her and no doubt well versed in women. Plus, he hadn’t even seen the wyvern. He knew exactly what he was doing. More importantly, he wasn’t her type, with all his finery and lack of muscle.

She nodded, pretending she didn’t know where he was trying to lead the conversation. “We’ll head to Ravenport in the morning.”

“Ravenport?” His eyes went wide for a moment. “There was another group that came through here a couple of days before you, heading that way. Three men, all armed to the teeth but none looking to help us. You should be careful.”

Charlotte’s eyes locked on him over the rim of her goblet of wine. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she set her goblet down. “Oh? Were they trouble?”

“Definitely. Hank Wilkinson had to kick them out of The Flying Fox for fighting. They broke his nose.” He pointed to a man in the barn with broad shoulders and thick forearms. Probably the town blacksmith. Sure enough, a dark bruise marred his nose. Spotting the spark of interest in Charlotte’s eyes, Albert continued conspiratorially, “Catia said they were talking about a treasure they were seeking.”

“Were they? Well, you have to take that with a grain of salt. Adventurers often brag about things they’ve never faced, or dream aloud about the perfect score.” Inwardly, though, Charlotte was interested. If there was a group only a couple of days ahead of them that might know about a treasure, it might be worth investigating. Rev was still strong, but not nearly as young as he used to be. (Not that she would ever point that out to him, because he’d kick her ass and be right to do so.) Still, mercenaries either died fighting or scored a lucrative enough job to retire. She wanted the latter, for both of them.

“I’m sure it was some ancient artifact made from solid gold,” she said skeptically.

Albert laughed. “Probably.” He waved to one of the serving girls, calling her over. She was a petite girl with black hair and wide eyes, but her smile was sly. Charlotte instantly liked her. “Catia, remember those three men that Hank kicked out of the Fox?”

“How could I forget?” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“What was it you said they were looking for?”

Charlotte grabbed her goblet of wine with a smile.

 

[Starcaller]

Rev's mind had drifted from the endless blabbering of the mayor, who sat just a few seats away from him, and his eyes fell upon Charlotte, or Charlie, as he often called her, and Albert. Some years back, he would probably have wanted to know everything there was to know about whomever it was that Charlie spoke with, simply due to the fact that she seemed to lack the ability to withhold important details from a conversation. Many times had he explained her that no one else but them had to know where they were going and yet Charlie almost never forgot to mention it, much to his irk. Though of late, she'd become something of an expert in using that to her advantage, to extract whatever information she could from whomever. One could have accused her of anything but not of being a fool. Now, however, Rev sat back and watched from a distance, not worried in the least. His Charlotte wasn't a little girl any longer and he knew she could handle herself, regardless of the situation. Moreover, she was never one to go unarmed, something that she'd learned from him as he, much like her, wore a hidden blade underneath his tunic. And the one she was with was the mayor's son. A decent lad as far as Revvyn was concerned, if only a bit of a skirt chaser. Charlotte would not be so easily swayed.

Rev watched as the two youngsters soon left the barn, intrigue seeping into the corners of his mind. Much like him, Charlotte wasn't one to bother much with romantic prospects, seeing as today she was in one town and tomorrow she was miles away. Yet there have been a few (Rev could easily count them on one hand's fingers) young men she'd dallied with in times when something had the two of them staying for more time in one place. He'd never objected, not as long as they wouldn't end up taking an enamored fool in tow. This, though, it was different. Albert was not even the type Charlotte would meddle with. A prissy boy, some may have said, raised in finery and silks. The type that Charlie would have drank under the table with no trouble. Rev's mind quickly abandoned the thread of thoughts as some voices, coming from just a few seats away. After so many years it had become too easy for him to eavesdrop without even ever intending to, for rumors could easily give important leads.

"Bastards tried to swindle me. The guts, trying to sell fake diamonds to an expert." One piqued man's voice rose from among the chit-chatter and music. Tomas Ferrand, Rev thought as he listened. A voice like his was hard to guess wrong. Tomas was the owner of the small jewelry shop, though by the way he presented himself one would have thought he was the royal jeweler and nothing less. Not to mention that he charged ridiculous prices. The voice that came to respond was so far unknown to Rev, yet it provided interesting information. "Weren't those the sods who broke Hank's nose? Got kicked outta the Flying Fox?"

To Rev, the story sounded all too familiar and yet, he couldn't quite put his finger on it. For curiosity's sake, the man directed his entire attention to the conversation, savoring his wine in the meantime.

"Aye, I heard they was headed for Ravenport, something about some treasure or such." A third voice chimed in. "Nasty folk, one of them tried to sneak his dirty hands under Catia's skirts. That poor girl, she has to deal with lots like them everyday. Too bad Hank didn't break their bones."

At the mention of treasure, Rev's interest instantly grew. The profession he had chosen had him travel all across the world, yet as years passed he couldn't avoid thinking of the need to settle down. And in truth, monster slaying and errand running hardly paid enough. A treasure, provided it was real, would have been enough for both him and Charlotte to find a nice place to retire to. Yet this wasn't the first treasure he'd ever heard of, and he knew from experience that many other proved to be nothing but a wild-goose chase. Still, the prospect was tempting, and it wouldn't have hurt to try and find out more.

"You know..." He chimed in, leaning over the table in order to be able to speak properly to the three men who talked to each other. "Charlotte and I are headed to Ravenport tomorrow. We could find the three rascals and deliver a message if you'd like, though I need to know what they look like." He said. Surely, the three knew those like him did nothing for free, and in that purpose, Rev would ask for a small fee, if only he was to learn more about these mysterious, trouble-making travelers.

The hour grew late, the wine continued to flow and the band of bards played tirelessly. Outside the barn, a few men had organized an impromptu brawling contest, and word had spread out quick. To a slightly buzzed Rev, only the word was enough to get him excited. Conversations had grown dull, and the information that he needed was extracted and the man could hardly wait to share it with Charlotte, who, he was sure, would be all ready to pursue a new adventure. Standing from his place, the man downed what was left of his goblet of wine, one in a row with a number which he did not even remember, and made for the cold night's air wherein two men were already going at each other, surrounded by others who were cheering. Strangely enough, Rev could not see Charlotte at the first look around. She'd have surely enjoyed a brawling competition. Nevertheless, Rev approached the circle, watching the ongoing fight, all as his hands had begun undoing the tunic that he wore. There was one rule in these competitions, and that was the brawlers weren't allowed fully clothed, or with any weapons. Bare chest and ready fists was all that was accepted.

 

[Erica]

Catia was exceptionally helpful, detailing the nature of the three treasure-seeking travelers with disdainful relish. All it required was a little egging on, providing occasional comments about the deplorable habits and assumptions of men. (Albert flushed in silent remorsefulness at some of the comments, confirming Charlie’s impression of him.)

“And they couldn’t hold their liquor,” Catia added with a grin.

The three men had spoken in hushed whispers at first, but once fully in their cups, their lips loosened and their secretive buzz became bragging. They would be rich, they claimed, enough to buy their own kingdom.

That sounded promising. And a lot like the boasting of drunken fools.

Still, Charlotte took note of the little details: the unkempt red-yellow beard of one, the large axe another kept glued to his side, even when drunk. The fact they tried to pay with gems, apparently of questionable worth.

Soon enough Catia’s duties called and the conversation shifted to other topics. Once it became clear Charlotte was not up for a tumble, Albert left her side when a few other revelers called for her to retell the story of besting the wyvern. Storytelling wasn’t in her blood, but she did her best to describe it for the eager crowd, downplaying Rev’s role and promoting her own, as is only human.

“You held the tail all by yourself?” One ruddy-cheeked man said, his tone dripping with disbelief. He didn’t look like he could hold a onto a sheep, nevermind a wyvern’s tail.

That part wasn’t exaggeration, so Charlie raised her glass to him. “Better than getting stung!” The gathered crowd laughed with her.

After her story, others were told, of bold feats and foolish adventures, most of them probably exaggerated. Charlotte chimed in once more, with generalized stories of adventure. Nothing specific, for Rev had chided her more than once about sharing too many specifics with strangers. You can’t help being memorable, but don’t be notorious.

Then the whispers came of a contest among the men. In the middle of a story about crossing a haunted wood, she lost half her audience, but not her smile. Downing the remnants of her wine, she looked down at her festive dress and shook her head.

In no time, she had changed, slipping on her leather pants and a simple tunic before returning to the barn at a jog. She didn’t want anyone refusing to fight her because she wore a skirt. Nimble fingers worked her hair into a quick braid, tight enough to stay out of her eyes, as she approached from the far side, her smile broad at the sound of the crowd’s cheers.

The two men facing off were well matched. Both were tall and muscular, though blood clung to one of their lips and speckled his chest. His nose wasn’t broken, not yet anyway. He spat blood onto the dirt and charged his opponent, feigning a left jab and following through with an uppercut that made the other man’s teeth rattle. The crowd cheered.

But his opponent recovered quickly, tackling the first man to the ground with a guttural yell. Pinning his opponent, he punched him across the face, triggering another spray of blood. The first man tapped out and the crowd whooped and hollered. A few excessive cheers, coupled with disappointed expressions, implied that side wagers had been made on the result of that particular match. The winner helped the loser up, and they clapped each other on the back.

Charlie grinned and, as the next two men stepped into the impromptu circle, signaled she’d like to fight next. These two were brothers, eager to best each other and leaning heavily toward wrestling. As they fought, she spotted Rev approaching from the other side of the crowd and waved, making her way through to his side with a bright smile and rosy cheeks.

“You might want to place your bet now,” she said casually, looking over the other potential fighters to try to assess her odds. “Though not too much.” It wasn’t doubt that plagued her, but rather that they didn’t want trouble in the morning as they left with their pay and the prize wyvern head. It wasn’t uncommon for them to make a little cash through such fights, but Oakstead had been good to them so far, and it would be easier to leave town on good terms. Rev had taught her as much over the years.

“And,” she said, handing him her knife and wiggling her eyebrows. “I heard a rumor. Might not be anything, but it’s not out of our way.”

 

[Starcaller]

Shedding the tunic, Rev placed it on the ground behind himself, proceeding to take the dagger that he kept hidden at the back of his waist and place it upon it. Then, the buttons of his long-sleeved shirt followed. Rev's torso was the proof of the adventures that he'd seen in his life thus far. Claw marks across his chest, cuts and bites upon his forearms, along with a fine assortment of stab and puncture scars in different spots, all the way from above his hip to below the neck. His back hadn't had an easier time, either, and upon a look it was simply astounding how a man could have survived so many possibly fatal injuries. In truth, it was surprising for Revvyn as well, and he'd always liked to believe that there was something out there that wanted him alive, still. Picking up the dagger from the ground, he proceeded to wrap it nicely into his shirt and place it back down, rising just in time to look at Charlotte, who, by the looks of it, had had just about enough to drink herself. He knew that look in her eyes, it was one he'd seen many times before whenever she came across a brawling circle. Charlotte took great pleasure in putting down men twice her size and throughout the years she'd become something of a natural at it. Of course, she'd learned from Rev and Rev was a mighty beast himself when it came to throwing punches.

A grin spread across his lips as he, too, scanned the crowd. Truly, there were hardly any matches for either of them to throw down with, but there were plenty of fools who would have mistaken Charlie for a weak little girl, even knowing that she took part in slaying a powerful creature that kept them hidden behind their walls. It was soon that the two brothers had finished their fight, and there were already several men lined up in the queue, that until it was announced Charlotte would be the next to fight. Fools as they might have been, some of them simply couldn't see themselves throwing punches at a woman, even if it was one like Charlie. It was a warped sense of chivalry as well as something else that made them simply scoff at even attempting to actually fight a woman on even ground. Though luckily, there was one, a rather large and brutish bald man who stepped forward, eyeing the girl with a challenging smile on his face.

"His right elbow is weak and he's left handed." Rev said, advice disguised under the veil of mere observation as he gave Charlie an encouraging pat on the shoulder. He'd learned to read those kinds of signs long ago and they truly proved to be useful.

"Ten crowns on the girl." He said as he moved to the betting group, dropping the coins in the middle of the small circle. A few scoffs and a few stifled laughs erupted, which prompted Rev to roll his eyes. He knew what he was betting on, and soon enough, the ones who laughed would choke on it. He quickly moved to a point from which he could watch the fight, eyes trained on Charlotte and her movements with great interest. She'd always been a quick study, though generally she was never a fan of theory. It took many defeats and failures for her to understand that without theory, practice was hardly possible, much like theory without practice was absolutely useless. It was only when she'd accepted this fact that she truly got to learn, and now it paid off as she seemed to make quick work of the man who already looked like he was having a hard time keeping up with her.

Revvyn was truly proud of Charlie, and it was in these moments when he felt it most. He smiled, grinned, really, seeing the shifting reactions of the crowd as they began to realize that their bets might have just been misplaced. He cheered for her, watching onward until the final moment, ecstatic to see Charlotte victorious once more. The fight had earned him quite a little nice prize pool, much more than he'd expected, and by the time Charlotte would return to him, Rev had the coins neatly gathered up in a small sack which he placed in her hand as soon as she came face to face with him.

"All yours. Should've tried to be a little gentle with the poor bugger, he should be happy if he ever gets to breathe through his nose again." He chuckled, giving the girl a heavy pat on the shoulder. It seemed that the circle had been occupied by another two contestants and so, there was still a little to go until it was Rev's time.

 

[Erica]

Rumors would have to wait. Charlotte had barely mentioned them when the match in the center of the circle ended and the man running the impromptu contest signalled she was up. She grinned, handing her knife over to Rev and stepping into the ring.

With disappointing predictableness, most of the men queued up to fight stepped away. While she would have liked to think her muscled arms and the scar on her left shoulder had inspired their hesitation, she knew it has everything to do with her gender. Holding her arms open in challenge, she smirked. “Come now! Surely you’re not afraid to fight a girl!”

Then a large, bald brute stepped forward, his brown, heavy-lidded eyes issuing a challenge as they met hers. Parted lips gave him the impression of a simpleton, but she noted the corded muscles of his arms and the thickness of his legs. Speed was yet to be determined, but strength was clearly in his arsenal. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

Charlie grinned back.

"His right elbow is weak and he's left handed." Rev said casually. She nodded, not bothering to reply that she had already made note of his dominant hand. She would have noticed the elbow in short order. As usual, Rev—always a quick study—had beat her to it.

A brief flurry of activity surged as conversation stirred and bets were made. Charlotte stepped forward to shake hands with the man, noticing he mirrored her and offered his right hand, which was meaty and calloused. If she had to guess, she’d say he chopped wood or something of the like for a living. “Madoc,” he offered in a rolling deep bass.

“Charlie,” she replied with a grin, gripping his hand a little longer than was customary to lean forward. “Don't hold back. ‘Cause I won't.”

In past fights, some men had taken a few half-hearted swings before giving their all. In addition to being disappointing and insulting, this often led to arguments about collecting any wagers. Thus she was glad to see Madoc nod then take a step back, waiting for the signal to start the fight.

The lean man who had recently called out her name stepped to the edge of the ring, raising his hand. He looked at both of them, then threw his arm down. “Fight!”

Despite his rather dimwitted appearance, Madoc wasn’t a fool—and he wasn’t slow. With a guttural yell, he rushed her. Apparently he had taken her words to heart, because he came out swinging, throwing a one-two punch that nearly landed. Charlie dodged and ducked, sidestepping the attack and keeping her distance from his rather impressive reach. His next punch connected with her cheek, enough to make her see stars and spit blood as she quickly scampered out of his reach, hearing a rush of air as his huge fist whizzed by her ear once more.

She kept moving. Another two swings, and she had a feel for his primary technique. Powerful and dangerous, it wasn’t polished. Then again, he probably hadn’t ever needed it to be.

Another few punches dodged, and he was frustrated, slowing down just a little. Those mighty swings took a lot of effort.

The crowd yelled in their impatience.

She grinned, waiting for him to rush her again before she landed a front kick to his stomach, earning a few groans of appreciation from the crowd. He doubled over, but only briefly. It had been partly a warning, a tactic to change the pace of the fight. And it was working.

Another rush, another kick—this time to his solar plexus, and he learned to be wary.

They circled each other, both of them crouching slightly to keep their centers of gravity low. Then she grinned, charging him for the first time with a burst of speed. A quick feint followed by an uppercut made his teeth audibly snap together. But he was tough. He ignored the pain in favor of grabbing her, rightfully assuming he was stronger.

As she tried to slip his grip, he threw a clumsy jab that grazed her side. Even the half-bungled attack would probably leave a bruise. Her resulting pause was his window.

With her back to him, he wrapped a meaty hand around her shoulders and pulled her closer, trying to choke her out.

Taking a firm step closer to him, Charlie launched her head backward, landing a solid strike to his nose. Warmth splattered across her scalp as she slammed her forearm into his right elbow, gripped his arm, and twisted, spinning him around. While he was off balance, she slipped her arm under his leg and lifted him off the ground with a loud grunt, just long enough to slam him back down into the dirt. There was a sickening crack as he landed and howled in pain. Probably broke a finger or his wrist, but Charlie didn’t have time to find out.

Calling her a rather colorful name, he swept out a leg and knocked her to the ground, buying time to get back to his feet.

Blood coated his face and chest, and fury burned in his eyes. Charlie hopped back to her feet and let him rush her. His anger made him dangerous, but it also made him sloppy. The next blow would have been disastrous—if it had connected.

This time she ducked the wild swing and stepped to the side, moving toward him as he was overextended. She thrust her knee into his ribs. As he doubled over, she spun and drove her elbow upward, connecting with Madoc’s nose with a hollow, slick crunch.

The brute fell backward, hitting the ground like a huge, bloody sack of potatoes.

The crowd cheered. Or at least Rev did.

Charlie stood over him, watching for a chance he would lash out again. The large man groaned and rolled onto his side, eventually looking up at her and nodding at her in defeat. His nose was a bloody mess, and there were bruises already forming beneath both eyes. From the way his middle finger on his right hand was swelling, it was probably broken.

She offered her left hand to help him up. “Well fought,” she said with a warm smile.

Madoc wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his forearm, then took her offered hand. Once standing, he left without further word on unsteady feet, and the crowd prepared to cheer on the next fight. As she left the center of the ring, a few people congratulated her or commented on the fight. She thanked them and massaged her jaw, seeking out Rev.

He was waiting for her, holding a small sack of coins. His praise inspired her grin more than the coins. The money was good, but she still remembered the number of times Rev had chided her for poor fighting technique or missing an opening, even if she won. His praise meant she had handled the fight well in his eyes, and though she was grown, she might never outgrow seeking his approval.

Carefully pressing a hand to her ribs, she exaggerated her wince. They would be bruised, but nothing was broken, which was a miracle considering the force of the man’s blows. “‘Gentle’ isn’t for fighting,” she replied, echoing a sentiment he had drilled into her repeatedly when she first asked (okay, begged) to be taught to fight. Almost nine years of being raised to be a dainty girl had left her with bad habits for a warrior; habits they had broken together.

Turning to face him at an angle so they could both watch the fight, she pocketed the coins and took back her knife, strapping it to her thigh. “I suspect we won’t make as much on your fight,” she said with a grin. They’d be lucky if they found someone willing to fight him, honestly. Rev made an impression.

As the two new opponents went at each other, the smacking of flesh hitting flesh filled the air, accompanied by the clapping and cheering of the crowd. Charlie briefly joined in the clapping to encourage the contestants.

“So. About that rumor.” Her voice dropped slightly in volume, just enough to hint at conspiracy. “Might not be anything, but everyone’s a buzz about some men that came through here a couple of days ago.”

 

[Starcaller]

There was a swell in his heart as Charlie repeated the words that he'd drummed into her head over and over again as a child. Gentle wasn't for fighting and during her training, he'd been all but gentle. In fact, one might have said, and rightfully so, that Charlotte's worst defeats came from Rev. Under him, the girl underwent draconic training and only through that had he been able to turn her into the fearsome warrior she was now. I'd rather you hate me than die like a fool, he'd told her over and over, perhaps boring her with the same words spoken so many times. But in the end she'd learned, and for that he felt incredibly proud. He could have embraced her with how joyful he felt yet he did none of that. No, such moments were strictly meant for intimate and private quarters, and this was far from anything like it. No, he gave her a pat on the shoulder, a squeeze that was meant to convey part of what he felt looking at her now, coming back to him in glory.

Though when she mentioned his fight, he returned, briefly, to scanning the circle to see if there was anyone who might've been a better match for him. And indeed, it seemed there was, a new figure that had joined the circles of spectators, clearly ready for a throw down. Oddly enough, Revvyn did not recount seeing this man around the town before, he surely would have recognized such an imposing figure, tall, broad shouldered and with eyes that could easily stare directly into someone's soul. For a moment, the man was caught, entrapped by the visage of the other who seemed focused on the fight that was going on currently. From that moment, he was certain he would face this strange man and with that purpose in mind, he signaled his intention on going next.

Attention was quickly returned to Charlotte as she mentioned, with a lowered voice, the rumor that she'd talked about earlier. As soon as she brought the smallest bit of detail to it, he'd instantly recognized a familiarity, and though he was a couple goblets deeper than earlier, he simply couldn't forget about the story regarding the three treasure-seeking rapscallions. During his talks earlier, he'd managed to learn enough, perhaps much more than he'd liked to know. One of them had a strange symbol tattooed on his hand, something that would've been more than enough to make him easy to identify.

"Three men?" Rev asked, turning to smile knowingly at Charlotte all as fists continued to fly within the impromptu fighting ring. One of the men had already gone down on his back once, but he was back up just as soon. Rev couldn't help but observe that neither of these two was a good fighter, or at least a kind of fighter who relied on anything than the simple throwing of a fist, and as such, being on equal ground was the best possible situation for either of them. His attention had turned once more to Charlotte, though before he could say anything anymore, a round of applause set off, triggered by one of the two inexperienced fighters becoming victorious. And soon as that, it was Rev's time. With a nod to Charlotte, the man stepped out of his boots, preferring to go barefoot. "Well, other things will have to wait." He said with a grin, stepping into the ring where, he found, his opponent already awaited him.

Rev couldn't deny that there was the odd beat in his heart at seeing this strange man, though not nearly one of fear or any sentiment akin to it. No, it was excitement that made his body tremble, for here was an opponent who might have been worth the time. Approaching him with careful steps, Rev extended both his fists, the gesture being mirrored by the other man until their fists bumped briefly. Then, both men took a step back and prepared, and with loud cheering, the fight began. Rev could already see a few patterns in the way his opponent moved, how he stepped and how he held his arms up, however, he had yet to determine the fighting style. It was all a game of waiting, one which seemed that his opponent didn't mind as he, too, waited, all as they circled each other, steps falling almost precisely one over the other's. And then, when the tension grew too heavy, it broke, with Rev's opponent stretching for a punch that was avoided easily by Revvyn, dodged with precision which allowed him to move in swiftly and attempt to deliver a punch to the gut, though in similar fashion, his opponent avoided the hit by stepping back a couple paces.

He was baiting Rev, and he knew better than to fall for it. Though he could tell, by now, that this man had quite some experience with fighting, himself. There was another short and swift exchange between the two of them before they went back to circling each other again, their gazes locked as the two kept waiting. One of them would have to break in the end.

 

[Erica]

Charlotte grinned as Rev confirmed he had heard the same rumors. It wasn’t surprising. The two of them had been together for years: for the better part of her life, in fact. They knew each other as well as any two people could, or so she liked to believe. And they certainly thought alike.

Rumors of treasure-seeking adventurers weren’t unheard of, but treasure was rare enough they both might want to follow up on it. Even a fool can overhear a tale of a lost city, or a pirate’s hidden cache, or some artifact studded with jewels.

The tale might be true or not, but usually rumors held a kernel of truth. Hopefully whatever the three men were seeking was more than hot air and wistful dreams.

As Rev moved into the makeshift ring, Charlie headed for the betting group. “Ten crowns on Rev...vyn,” she said, tossing the coins in the center of the small circle, unaware of how much her actions mirrored her mentor. She glanced at pending fight, noting the size of Rev’s opponent, how the stranger held himself and stood ready to fight. She grinned as the bets piled up. Rev wasn’t exactly an underdog, but this was a hot match.

Moving to better watch the fight, Charlotte’s eyebrows sought out her hairline as the two men circled each other, then exchanged brief opening attacks and dodges. The stranger was quick, a skilled fighter, and no fool. He might actually give Rev a run for his money. She clapped and cheered as the crowd’s tone soured, disappointed at the lack of immediate blood. But as the two men felt each other out, slowly circling and assessing, Charlie cheered them on, then grinned.

“Remember Linfield!” she called, her voice momentarily lost in the din of the crowd, so she moved forward, hoping to be heard. Rev’s opponent clearly knew how to fight and was seeking his weakness, as surely as Rev was seeking his.

A few years back, they’d visited a small, sleepy town being shaken down by a brute, and not a very good one at that. Linfield had been invaded by a would-be kingpin who thought himself clever, leading a few friends in shaking down the locals. Due to the relatively low risk, Rev had told Charlie to take the lead on the job. The brute, coward that he was, remained wary and wanted to arrange a fight on his own terms. Charlotte agreed and kicked his ass, not because of her fighting skill at the time but because she had followed Rev’s advice. She emphasized a false weakness, favoring her left and leaving herself open to attack. When he tried to exploit her “weakness”, she finished him in quick order. It hadn’t been subtle, but that particular idiot had needed a map and bright arrows to follow her suggestion.

This man only needed something subtle, for he was watching closely for Rev’s weakness. Charlie moved toward the edge of the crowd, cupping her mouth as she called out, “Linfield!”

Resuming her clapping, she grinned, watching the fight with eager anticipation. Either way, she was sure to learn something. Rev always had something up his sleeve.

Barring that, he had a mean right hook.

 

[Starcaller]

While the shouting of the name of a particular place that was far from here came as odd to most of the men who watched on, Rev instantly recognized what Charlie wanted of him. That one moment in an ocean of events resurfaced and for a brief second he'd remembered the advice he'd given Charlotte back then. His opponent was looking for an opening, a weakness which he could exploit, while carefully guarding his own seeing as Rev was not yet able to find it. He definitely had to have a blind spot, something... However, within a moment, Rev's tactic changed, following the piece of advice he'd given Charlie all those years ago. He had to offer his opponent an opening, trick him into believing he has the advantage.

With a carefully trained step, Rev moved out of the way of an incoming punch that would've grazed his jaw, managing to throw in a left the stranger's ribs, though not strong enough to affect him much. The two men were on constant move, taunting each other as they prepared for the next exchange. Revvyn had already prepared his trap, awaiting to lay it for his opponent. And then it happened, as the stranger, perhaps antsy, rushed. The punch was headed straight for Rev's gut, and though it was a dangerous move, the man allowed it to connect, feeling as though the air had been sucked out of his lungs as soon as the punch landed. Luckily, he had prepared for it, but it still felt as though it could've taken him off his feet at any moment. He stumbled a couple of paces back, retaking his footing, however, making it appear as though he was far more unstable than he actually was.

The stranger, gaining courage, began moving in, attempting to get closer to the unbalanced Rev to be able to deliver more punches. Allowing the man to get closer was a risk that Rev was ready to take, though now, one wrong step could have meant a bitter loss. He would need to give his opponent the impression that the fight was won, to make him become more relaxed and reveal his weakness. Somewhere behind, he could hear Charlie cheering him on and he knew he was not allowed to lose. As the stranger attempted to lay a second punch to his gut, Rev once more stepped out of the way, finding the unique opportunity, as his opponent stumbled forward, to bend him in half and strike a knee into his torso, before stepping away and staying put until the stranger regained his own balance, definitely affected by the hit.

And then, the two went at it again, punches flying back and forth, flesh being hit under the eyes of a more ecstatic crowd, one which hadn't predicted the kind of fight that would happen right before their eyes. Most had assumed Rev would lay his opponent on his back within the minute, yet here they were, constantly dancing and vying for supremacy in the ring. Rev seemed to have become more and more tired with each moment, though, while the fight was tiring, he was far from being exhausted and what people and his opponent saw was a masterful ruse. And indeed, the stranger was getting braver and braver, moving in for the kill, not expecting the much older man to be able to hold up as well as in the beginning of the fight.

But then it happened, swift, brutal, with lethal precision. It had taken just one misstep for Rev's opponent, offering him the long awaited opportunity to use his favored strike, the right hook that had sent many others straight to the ground. Yet for all the strength of the hit, the opponent stumbled sideways, dazed and confused as he tried to regain himself, yet still a far way from being on the ground. For Rev it was a surprise, in fact, a shock, that the man still stood after that, a hit that had resounded much like the surprised gasps of the crowd that followed after the stranger resisting such a hit. However, there was no time to lose, and as soon as he recovered from the initial shock, Rev followed his hit with a couple of others, one to the gut and another hook to the liver, taking advantage of the increased state of disarray his opponent was in to deliver the finisher, an uppercut that sent the other man flying and falling on his back like a sack of potatoes.

Rev, too, felt the aftermath of this fight. His breath was ragged and his body was much more worked up than it had ever been before, yet another sign of growing old. He'd turned to regard Charlie, grinning as soon as he'd spotted her before returning his attention to the opponent who struggled, in vain, to stand. The chill breeze felt like arctic winds on Rev's sweat coated skin, but the man approached his opponent and offered a hand, one which was taken.

"So what I've heard of you is true." The stranger said, much to Rev's surprised. He wasn't aware of himself being that much of a legend that some stranger had heard things of him. "Things are looking promising." The man added, giving Rev a pat on the shoulder before departing, limping his way out of the ring and leaving him with his jaw dropped. What was that even supposed to mean? Either way, the next two contestants were already occupying the ring and so, he headed towards Charlie, smiling to her grateful for her help.

"Tougher than I'd expected." He said to her as soon as he was within earshot. He didn't mention how strange of an encounter the man was, and how it seemed that he knew more about him than he'd have liked to. "Thanks for reminding me of Linfield."

 

[Erica]

Charlie hooted and hollered encouragement as she watched the fight, subconsciously swaying left and right with Rev’s motions. The two men were well matched, and although the crowd seemed disappointed in the lack of successful strikes, Charlotte understood the skill that went into the nuanced dance before her. Precision was key, their footwork impressive. They both dodged strikes by a hair’s breadth, and the ones that landed made even her wince.

Rev wasn’t the only powerhouse.

She held her breath as Rev’s was knocked from his lungs, her fist curling into a ball at her side. It was a ploy, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Sucking in air, she shouted anew, clapping and awaiting what she knew was coming: Rev would pull something miraculous out of his hat.

He didn’t disappoint. The feint was perfect, the knee delivered to his opponent brutal. And then the fight was on. They still expertly avoided the worst strikes, but many connected, thrilling and horrifying the crowd at once. It was like watching two apex predators at odds, each acting with swift brutality. Only Rev was downplaying his abilities.

Or so she hoped.

Then it came. Rev stepped in for his brutal right hook: the strike that had flattened too many opponents to count. She grinned, then blinked as the man took the strike—and remained standing?

Rev recovered from his shock faster than Charlie did from hers, raining down blows until the man finally fell. Charlie clapped and yelled along with the crowd, beaming with pride.

“You’d have thought of it—eventually,” she replied with a grin when he thanked her, her tone lightly teasing. Figuring he needed a moment to recover, she let him return to his clothes while she collected their winnings. Much as he had done, she offered him the (slightly smaller) sack of coins after he had dressed again.

“I doubt you’ll see a fight that good again today,” she said, unsuccessfully scanning the crowd for the large stranger. “Nor that anyone else will be willing to fight you now.” She frowned, looking at the two men who were fighting with a bit of wistfulness. No one would fight her now, either.

+++​

The Day of All Crops ended, as most festivals do, with more drinking. The ale and wine flowed freely, with men (and some women) proving their fortitude through the speed and volume of their consumption.

As was often the case with such things, Charlie had overdone it. Ale wasn’t bad, and hard liquor packed a different sort of punch, but there was something about wine that always resulted in a lingering headache the next day.

So it was that, as they packed up their things and said their goodbyes to the few townspeople who were awake with them, her head throbbed in counterpoint to the subtle bruises on her ribs. Their breakfast of greasy eggs and a thick cut of ham with biscuits sat heavy in her stomach, promising it might help relieve her hangover—maybe in dozen miles.

The smell of the wyvern’s head, wrapped, bundled, and hanging from her saddle, wasn’t helping, either. She mentioned none of this to Rev. Even if he didn’t look like he was nursing his own hangover, he would have little sympathy for her.

They rode for a time in companionable (potentially miserable) silence. Eventually, she turned to Rev as they turned a corner in the winding road to see another stretch of dirt laid out before them, lined on either side with trees. The trees, originally thick-trunked and shade-providing, were growing more spindly as they headed in the direction of Ravensport and the coast.

“So—treasure?” She grinned, glancing at the bundle tied to her horse. “Are we going to check it out?” Spotting something on his face, she grinned. “Please tell me you got the good people of Oakstead to pay us to investigate them.” It wouldn’t be the first time he had managed to get paid to do what he planned to anyway, but it always impressed her. It was one of the few things he’d tried to teach her that she hadn’t quite mastered.

 

[Starcaller]

The night had ended almost in the early morning, just perhaps an hour or two before the sun peeked into the world again. Rev had long forgotten to count the drinks, or their kind, or to count, at all. And the more liquor went down his throat, the hazier the world became. Now he was with one group of people, then the next it was another, though something that remained a constant was Charlie's presence. All until everything just faded and the next thing Rev knew, he was in the room he'd rented at the inn, with his tunic only half pulled from his body, most likely an unsuccessful attempt at getting undressed, with only one boot and laying almost across the bed rather than along it. It hadn't been comfortable in the least, his neck was hurting, much like a couple of spots that he remembered, as if in dream, that his strange opponent had hammered into while they were fighting.

Hadn't he been here before? Rev could easily recall the last few times, each time having sworn not to go that far and yet, here he was. The swirl of thoughts, the throbbing pain in his head, curses, even his inability to move temporarily were something he hated now. And after a long struggle, managing to move had felt truly freeing, though it was followed closely by the turning of his stomach and the next thing he knew, Rev was bent in half into the wooden bathtub that had been brought into his room and he was one groan away from spilling his organs into it. He felt thirsty, like he could drink a gallon of water without even breathing, but also felt as though filling his stomach with anything would cause it to revolt.

Though ultimately, he ended up partaking in the breakfast that was offered to him and Charlie, time in which his gazes to her had been all that words could not say. He felt empathetic, seeing as how she wasn't looking any better than he was, with heavy bags under the eyes that were red and tired. If it wasn't for the three men they were supposed to catch up to, Rev would have happily suggested Charlie that they would stay in Oakstead one more day. As it was, though, they had to be on their way.

And off they went, though not after formal farewells and gratitude as well as a couple hints as to what they'd done the night before. It had been wild, a tale that the bards would most likely end up recounting in their lifetimes. And after all of that, the road of misery lay ahead, open for the two of them. The wyvern's head was beginning to decompose and really, the smell would not have been a problem if not for Rev's sensitive stomach. Luckily, Charlie took his mind off of the matter with her questions, though each of her words felt like a hammer that struck against his head, making it pound even harder.

"Whatever you desire most in the whole world?" Rev asked, quoting one of the variations of the story he'd heard. "Sounds pretty promising. Right now I desire for this fucking headache to just go away." He groaned, uncorking his skin of water and taking a hearty, thirsty chug from it. "Of course I got them to pay me, first. It's not likely that we'll return this way too soon." He smiled. Charlie knew him all too well though again, she'd been for long enough with him by now. He'd tried to teach her the fine art of persuasion, however, she didn't master it, though she wasn't too terrible, either. Still, of the two of them, Rev was the one more likely to convince anyone that red is green. It simply came with age, he supposed.

"So..." He said, a moment later. "Albert. He was still alive this morning and in one piece. That's pretty surprising." He teased, alluding to how different Charlie and the young man were and how that might've translated in, well, any situation. Of course, Rev never intruded too much into what Charlie did away from him, but teasing her about it was still fun.

 

[Erica]

Watching Rev drink from his water skin reminded Charlie of her own thirst. She reached for her own water with a smile and a shake of her head. Not only had Rev managed to convince them to pay him for investigating the trouble. If they ever should pass through Oakhurst again, he would have a suitable story ready for them with the perfect blend of heroics and vague accomplishment to them feel he had earned every dime. Charlotte was good at making people feel comfortable, at telling a story of an adventure to make others feel like they were living it. She was even skilled at getting others to open up and share gossip and even sometimes secrets, but she did not possess Rev’s ability to get people to trust him with a task and their money using nothing more than a smile and an earnest promise.

For a while—until a couple of years ago, in fact—she had earnestly tried to mimic his skill, to utilize his technique of a firm handshake, a meaningful glance, and an openly concerned question. It never worked. Eventually, she had come to accept that some skills she had to figure out on her own, to find her own way. As a woman, she would always get a different response from people than Rev would as a man. There was nothing wrong with that: it was how the world worked. Once she had come to terms with that, she could start to work with it rather than against it.

Most of the time.

When he mentioned Albert, she smirked before taking a swallow of water from her skin. “He was harmless.” Rev trusted her, but he often teased her after some man flirted with her—a not-so-subtle way of checking in with her, or at least that’s how she interpreted it. She tried to think of it as endearing. “He’s also not my type.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “And you know it.”

Her return teasing was light and easy. “Now, that Rasmus…” she whistled. “Not only was he strong, but he could drink. Not the brightest bulb, but he was fun at the celebration last night. Not that you remember…”

Her grin came easily, as did the conversation along the way to Ravenport. While the road to it wasn’t patrolled, there was frequent traffic, both for traders and to the surrounding mines. Much of the city’s wealth was centered on the ores and metals harvested by the small mining towns around it. Wagons, often guarded, often travelled the winding roads to Ravenport’s somewhat shabby gates, which meant bandits and outlaws that might harry travelers became less daring as they neared the port city.

By the time they arrived, Charlotte’s hangover had dissipated and been replaced by fatigue. Oakhurst was only a day’s ride from the city, but it was a full day’s worth of travel. As she spied the gate in the burnt orange glow of the setting sun, she thought longingly about a bed at an inn. Two nights asleep inside with such luxury was a rarity for them, one she was looking forward to: after they sold the wyvern head, of course. It wouldn’t do to try to bring that thing into any business other than the apothecary who might want to buy it.

“So—” she began without any subtlety. “You should go talk with Lilijana at the Cauldron. I’ll go secure us rooms at the Laughing Raven.” She nodded to the wyvern’s head on her saddle. “You’ll get a better price for it without me, and you know it.”

Lilijana Tatton ran Lily’s Cauldron, the best local apothecary—and the fairest trader for rare mythical creatures and their parts. She also had a bit of a crush on Rev, finding it so endearing that he had taken Charlie “under his wing”. As if she were still a young, wide-eyed girl. Charlie tried not to tease him too much or too often about it, but she would absolutely use it as a chance to get off her feet as quickly as possible.

Only that was not meant to be. As they rode nearer, it became apparent that Ravensport’s gates, as shabby as they might be, were closed.

 

[Starcaller]

"Oh, I know it." He responded with a nod. "You picked your teeth with the bones of tougher lads than him." He said, unable to contain the pride that filled his voice as he said it. Charlie was everything he could have possibly wished his child would be and for anyone who didn't know the truth, she was his child. To think now back to the times when Rev intended to abandon her not only once, it was too shameful. Luckily, he never did fulfill his early plans and here they were now, so many years later. Luckily enough Charlotte didn't hate him for all the things he'd put her through in her training, breaking her and rebuilding her with only her good in mind. It hadn't been easy rewiring her, turning all the world that she'd awakened to on its head, teaching her of its dangers and darkest corners and how to fight everything it would throw at her. And the more time they spent together, the more fond he grew of her, making it difficult and painful for him to hound her during training. Knocking her into the dirt and mud with the wooden sword, punishing her for not watching her moves more carefully, making her face her greatest fears by bringing them within a hair's breadth of her, it never got any easier, and whenever they were out of training Rev would do his best to compensate for it.

And certainly, all his efforts were not without success. So he had every reason in the world to be proud of her.

With all the conversation that went along the road, Ravenport was sure to come into view sooner rather than later. It was about then when Charlotte spoke again, reminding Rev of Lilijana, no doubt, her way of biting back for his teasing earlier. Though he couldn't deny that Lilijana would've been a good choice had he decided to settle down. The woman was some few years younger than him and the two of them had known each other for a long while. Revvyn was one of her best suppliers, even if he came to Ravenport so rarely. Not to mention Lilijana was all too happy to shower Charlotte with affection, coming to love her ever since Rev stepped into her shop with the little girl in tow. Even now, when Charlotte was taller than her, Lilijana still treated her the same, much to Rev's amusement.

"You're just trying to get away from what she'll do to you when she sees you. Lilijana will hardly accept that you're a big girl now." He laughed, calling her tactic. Charlie was yet to learn she couldn't trick him that easily. "I will have to tell her that you're in town, though, so you're only delaying the inevitable." He shrugged. Though as he spoke and they approached, he could not help but notice that the gates to the city were closed. Why would such an important trade node close its gates was a good question, one which was about to be answered soon. The number of the guards at the gate was double from what Rev remembered, and neither his nor Charlie's horse made it far across the stone paved path that led to the entrance in the city before one of the guards took charge, approaching the couple while flanked by another two guards, surely, for safety reasons.

"Halt. The city gates are closed on the order of Cedric Wulfe, Captain of the City Guard." The man said. Of course, Rev knew who Cedric Wulfe was, however, he found it amusing how the other man needed to even mention that the gates were closed. As if he couldn't see it. Still, it was enough to tickle his curiosity and really, Charlotte knew that Rev would go above and beyond to satisfy it now.

"Is something happening?" He asked, an innocent question, really. One which the guard seemed reluctant to answer, and irritated by. "No civilian's business, that's for sure. I suggest you turn around and go westward, Coalfell is not so far. Or sleep right out here, it's all the same to me." He said, shrugging. The attitude on the man was surely annoying but Rev knew better than to turn it around on him. "Can I speak with Captain Wulfe?" He asked, attracting even more irk from the self-important guard, whose jaw clenched for a moment. "No can do. I have strict orders and I'm following them. Only traders have the permission to enter, after a thorough check-up." He said. It was in that moment that he got an idea. "Well, we definitely have things to trade. And a couple of items to deliver, too." He replied, gazing to the wrapped head hanging from Charlie's saddle. The guard's attention was pulled to it as well, though the man seemed yet unconvinced.

"What is that? Smells like shit." He said. "It's a wyvern's head." Rev replied. Perhaps... perhaps this way, they could earn an audience with the Captain. Whatever problems Ravenport had that made the Captain shut the gates, it meant he also needed help, and not too many people could honestly say they'd slain a wyvern in their lifetime.

"Bounty hunters." The guard said, looking to one of the other two. "You're exactly the sort that the Captain told us to keep out. It's hard enough to investigate the murders without murderers for coin running about." He said, realizing at the last moment that he'd said perhaps more than he needed to. Rev smiled, turning his head to Charlie with a victoriously smug grin on his face, all as the guard seemed to have gone to the end of his patience. "Look, just get out of here already. I've wasted enough time and breath. Go bother the guards in Coalfell, or anywhere else, really."

And with that, it became clear that they wouldn't gain passage. Bidding farewell to the guard, Rev signaled to Charlie that they would turn around. No reason to get in a scrap and cause a ruckus, though he wondered if the three men they were after managed to get in. Hard to tell, not knowing exactly when the gates were closed.

"What do you make of this?" Rev asked Charlie a while later as their horses paced their way to Coalfell. "He said something about murders. Doubt it's our three men causing the trouble."

 

[Erica]

The guard at the gate was an ass. Ravenport was big enough to warrant a fairly significant force to patrol the streets, but not quite large enough to be too choosy about its recruits. Every farmer’s son who wanted to wield a little power tended to apply, knowing that work as a city guard generally saw less action than, say, being a soldier or mercenary. Captain Wulfe was a good man, a veteran soldier who had taken up the mantle of leading the guard a few years back. Rev knew him, and said he was generally a good man. He tried to fill his ranks with other good men, experienced soldiers and the like.

By the looks of things, he hadn’t been entirely successful.

The young guard, flanked by another two other men who seemed to be savoring their sliver of power, was full of self-importance. It was possible the task of explaining why the gates were closed was becoming tedious, but somehow Charlie doubted it. Personally, she suspected Wulfe had assigned this job to his most dim witted recruits.

A few years ago, she would have been mouthing off, telling the pompous guard exactly what she thought of him. Today, she exercised the restraint at her disposal, containing her frustration to curled fists and smirking at them as she watched Rev play them like fiddles.

As they left, she shrugged, sparing the city gates one more glance over her shoulder as she answered Rev’s question. “They don’t seem the sort, from what we heard. Passing fake gems and bragging about finding treasure? Sounds like murder would be too much work for them. Maybe we’ll luck out and they’ll be at Coalfell, too.”

It was foolish to think that the men were following anything of real value, but Charlie couldn’t help the dream blossoming in her mind. The world was full of possibilities, wild and wonderous. It was rare, but mercenaries did occasionally retire after finding a lost treasure. If there was anyone who deserved to retire, it was Rev.

She could only hope the three men weren’t boarding a ship in Ravenport now.

As the path wound toward the outlying mining towns, Charlie surrendered her aspirations of sleeping in a bed for the second night in a row. With a sigh, she shook her head and focused on the puzzle at hand. “Ravenport’s large enough that people get killed.” She shrugged. “It has to happen at least once a week, and they don’t close the gates. And Wulfe’s not one to overreact. Either someone important is dead, or there’s a lot of killing going on.”

She nodded to the path ahead of them. “We should ask around at Coalfell.”

 

[Starcaller]

"He mentioned murders." Rev responded, though he couldn't agree more that murder seemed to be too much work for the three men they chased.

Way too much work. Three louts who chased some sort of vague treasure couldn't possibly have caused Ravenport to be shut to visitors. Especially not in such a short time, two days at best. Rev agreed with Charlie that Coalfell would've been the best place to ask, and indeed, the small town was not even too far. The tops of the tallest buildings in Ravenport were visible from there. The small town was built right around the mine, houses spread throughout the small region in a semblance of order. A small tavern for the workers to relax in and grab a drink, a little market where fish, meat and fruit from Ravenport were sold, a guard outpost as well as a small chapel and an infirmary. It seemed that the small town was flourishing, what with the building sites of new houses.

And though the scenery seemed rather bright, Rev couldn't help but feel a sadness lingering heavy in the air, permeating it. The men worked the mine tirelessly, bringing up cart after cart of pitch black coal and unloading it before disappearing back into the depths, to fetch more. A few women walked about, minding their business. Some, fetching fruits at the market stalls, one hanging clothes to dry, and another caring for a few children playing in the dirt. Coalfell seemed like a peaceful, almost impossibly peaceful hub of civilization. But Rev just couldn't stop that feeling that pressed against his chest, that voice at the back of his mind which told him that things were not quite right. He gazed at Charlie, wondering if she, too, felt the same. As their horses trotted, they passed by the infirmary and from within, one could easily hear hacking coughs and groans of pain. It made a gruesome contrast to the relative quiet and stillness that hung up in the air.

A nurse, by the looks of her garbs, threw the strange pair a gaze, before returning to her duties. Rev felt uneasy, and that was one feeling that didn't come about too often.

"It is rather quiet. Wonder if they heard of the murders in Ravenport." He said, keeping his tone down as if to not disturb the peace. Soon as they reached the small tavern, Rev dismounted, moving to tie his horse to the pole that served, more or less, as a stable. There was a large water vase near it, and hay was strewn about for the horses to enjoy. It seemed they were the only visitors from the outside, and it was strange, thinking back on how the guards in Ravenport seemed to turn away everyone who wasn't a trader.

Inside the tavern wasn't any better. The floorboards creaked in the silence that assaulted the man's ears as soon as they made their way in. There was no one there, save for just the tavern keep who was content enough in her solitude. A middle-aged woman, it seemed, perhaps closer to Rev's age, with brown locks of hair that were tied neatly and arranged. Her eyes immediately fell upon the two and in a moment, she passed through several sets of feelings as she took in their countenance. She seemed surprised and wary of them at the same time, though within moments they'd both learn she knew the reason of their presence there.

"Turned at the gates, were you?" She asked, flashing Charlie a brief smile. "Just like them folks from yesterday." The woman said, displeasure audible in her tone. "Hopefully you're not another couple cretins."

Insulting as it should have been, the remark was definitely not at all such. No, it was in fact very helpful, helping Rev's spirit as he realized they might have just come to the best place. Surely, the woman must have been referring to the men they were searching for, and his interest was piqued right from that moment. He could tell that Charlie, too, had picked up on it, and surely, by the time they made their way to a table, he spoke back to the woman.

"We've been turned at the gates, sure enough, but we're no cretins. Would you kindly get us something to drink and sit down with us? We might wanna hear more about them folks from yesterday."

 

[Erica]

One of the most critical skills for a mercenary-for-hire—aside, perhaps, for fighting prowess—was being able to read a room. Knowing when things were about to hit the fan could save your life. It was one of the first lessons Rev had taught her.

The room was full of people larger than her, a sea of leather-clad feet, rumbling bass voices, and noisy armor. Rev had taken her into town, begrudgingly, and made her promise to stay close as he visited the local tavern to meet a contact.

She remembered angry voices, sudden chaos, then the floor rushing toward her. She had barely gotten her hands up in time to catch herself. The telltale sound of swords being drawn was followed by grunting and the clash of metal as Rev finished a fight someone else had started.

Charlotte hadn’t sensed the pending fight until it was too late. Rev had pushed her out of the way to keep her from getting injured, suffering a nasty cut to his arm in the process.

They’d left town almost immediately. Rev had lectured her on the signs to watch for as he bandaged his cut, then her scrapes.

Plagued by guilt at the thought that she had caused his injury, she hadn’t made the mistake again.

As they rode into Coalfell, the hairs on the back of Charlie's neck tingled. Rev felt it, too; she could tell by the way he sat in the saddle, the silent looks they exchanged. His hushed tone punctuated it as they rode toward the tavern. She didn’t bother answering him. They both knew it was something other than that. By the state of the infirmary and the emptiness of the tavern, it was illness.

Charlie suppressed a shudder. Her parents had died in a plague, half the town wiped out in under two weeks, and that was before the monsters came to feed on the dead. It was how she had met Rev, but the sound of that coughing still made her skin crawl, the tight discomfort lasting long after they passed the infirmary.

Spooked as she was, she picked upon the tavern keeper’s irritation, and the likelihood the “cretins” were their targets. Charlie offered a sympathetic smile as they sat down, thanking the woman for her hospitality, being sure to place their coins on the table up front. “Let me guess. They thought they didn’t need to pay.”

“Sure enough! And handsy, too! Not that they tried with me, not at my age, but you know the type,” she said to Charlie, then grinned, looking her over. “Or maybe not. I bet they think twice before grabbing you.”

Charlie grinned over her mug of ale. “If they don’t, they learn quick enough.” She rode out the resulting laughter and nodded. “I’m sorry we weren’t here earlier to help.”

“Don’t think nothin’ of it. I can handle myself.”

“I’ve no doubt,” Charlie agreed with a grin. “Still, can you describe them? I’d like to remind them of their manners if they’re still in town.”

“Ah! Ain’t you sweet! But I wouldn’t want you messin’ with ‘em. Once had an axe nearly as big as you. Dark hair and darker eyes, that one. Wanted to see me scared. And the one with the red hair, beard like he doesn’t know how to keep himself up?” She shuddered her disapproval. “They looked like trouble as soon as they come in. Even the short one. Well, not short, but shorter you see. Balding with the tattoos and a missing tooth. I don't care if they claimed they was rich. They all stank of trouble. Best avoid ‘em if you see them.”

Charlie met Rev’s eyes briefly over their ales. They fit the description perfectly. “Are they staying in town?”

The tavern owner, Trudy, smirked knowingly. “They asked for ‘the best inn in town’. Like we have more than one.” Her snort declared her opinion of that. “I sent ‘em to Delia. She runs the Canary’s Rest. And God help ‘em if they gave her trouble.”

They chatted for a bit, avoiding the topic of the emptiness of the tavern and thanking Trudy for her time and hospitality.

When they left, Charlie looked at Rev. “What are the odds they’re still here?”

As it turns out, the odds weren’t good. Delia at the Canary’s Rest was helpful, offering them a room at what she claimed was a discounted rate. “You don’t want to be sleeping out there,” she said. But the three men had come and gone, left early in the morning, she didn’t know for where.

“We saw the infirmary was busy. Is there some illness in town?” Charlie asked.

Delia was an older woman, but strong, a lifetime of hard work causing her to stoop and adding steel to her gaze. “Worse than ever. Comes about every fall, as the weather gets colder. It sets in the lungs. The miners are much more susceptible, of course.” She clucked her tongue and shook her head. “There’s a tonic made from Dragon’s Breath, Bloodroot, and some foreign mushroom what helps the miners, rare enough we need to get it from Ravensport. But there ain’t enough to go around, and so the price…” she shook her head. “No miner can afford it. Lately they’re asking what a miner would earn in a season. So most are taking their chances.”

Charlie felt herself go pale as she looked at Rev. She knew exactly what widespread illness could do to a town.

“No miner should have to choose between coughing up blood and living only to see his family starve,” Delia said. “It’s criminal, that’s what it is.”

 

[Starcaller]

The whole running back and forth from person to person could have become tiring, but it was simply the nature of mercenary work. Trudy had been nice enough, though, much more willing to share information than she seemed at the very first glance, though after her encounter with the three traveling idiots it wasn't really a surprise she had been skeptic towards Rev and Charlie. And yet it seemed they had to go to another person, one Delia who ran perhaps the smallest inn Rev had seen in his life. Though again, it was not a necessary building what with the big city just within a stick's throw. Delia was nice enough, too, and this time Rev stood back and let Charlie do the asking, It seemed that their bad luck did not end there, and now it was just a question of where the hell those goons were headed to. They definitely couldn't be in Ravenport and Rev thought long and hard about what way they could have to circumvent the closed gates. Unless they simply gave up and found other pursuits, in which case...

He'd been paying attention to the conversation about this disease that seemed to target miners, and he could see the effect the reveals had on Charlie. The girl had a tough hide but this was one subject that she was yet uncomfortable with. She had been lucky as a child, not getting infected as her family had. It was also a curse, to have to remember their deaths for the rest of her life.

There was something strange here, however. Ravenport lived from the mining trade, so why exactly would they supply the tonic at prices that miners would not be able to afford?

"They're asking? Who are they?" He asked, unable to hold back the question. Delia shifted her attention to him, almost surprised that after such a long silence he spoke. Yet the question seemed to evoke something in her, something akin to fear that sparked from her expressive eyes. "It's... a difficult story. One that you don't want a hand in." she declared. Her tone and demeanor had suddenly turned serious, and Rev knew that from here on, pressing the matter was a risky territory. So instead, he chose to switch the topic, coming back to the three men, or rather, something related to them. "Would anyone in Coalfell happen to know of other ways into Ravenport?" He asked, taking Delia by surprise. "You see, we really have to get in. Who knows how much longer this lockdown will last and we have urgent matters to attend to." He said, simultaneously sliding a small sack of coins, a sum dedicated specifically for something like this, under the woman's nose. She seemed rather pleased to accept it. "Matilda is the one you're looking for, then. But be careful. She... well... her husband died not long ago and you can imagine the poor woman is still grieving. Come to think of it, I did see those three stooges near her house..." She said, weighing the sack of coins in her hand with a content expression. From there on, it was clear that Rev and Charlie had to go to this Matilda, though it was a very delicate matter. This time around it was Rev who decided to take the forefront, just for safety.

As they neared the woman's home, the two could see her, busy tending to the small garden of flowers in front of her home. Though she didn't remain oblivious to the two souls approaching, and as soon as they were within earshot, she turned around. Matilda was a rather youthful woman, though again it was hard to tell whether she was really young or slightly older but ageless in sight. And while her sea green eyes might've sparked with life and joy once, now they were empty. The death of her husband must have been quite recent, or maybe she was simply unable to get over it. Rev shuddered to think how it would feel to lose someone so important. He was certain that were he ever to lose Charlie, he'd lose just about all the purpose to his life. It was moments like this when he realized just how much the young woman came to mean for him.

"Greetings." Matilda spoke to them, causing Rev to stop dead in his tracks, to adjust himself for a moment. There was no telling tone in the woman's voice. No hostility, no curiosity, even, or hospitality for that matter. There was nothing. Emptiness. It sent a cold spike racing along his spine. "Good day to you, Madame." He said, politely, nodding his head courteously. "Can I help you with something?" Matilda asked. She'd made it all easier for Rev, but he still remained wary. "We... heard that you may be able to help us with a matter, actually. I can tell it might not be the right time to come to you for such, however, we'd be deeply grateful and indebted to you."

It seemed as though it wasn't at all too difficult to get Matilda to cooperate, and as soon as Rev explained to her what they needed, she, in turn, conjured up her recent memory. "You're only the second people to ask me this in a matter of days. Three others came to me just yesterday." She said. Rev didn't even need to ask further, he knew exactly of whom Matilda spoke. "But it all doesn't come free. I need you to do something for me. The same I told to them but by the looks of it, I doubt they will, in fact, do anything."

"I'm listening, then." Rev said. "What would you like in return?"

"I'm a widow, now." She said, sadness coming to the forefront of her visage. "My husband, Lucian, used to work in the mines." She continued, tears beginning to well up in her eyes as soon as she remembered the man. "Then, much like many other miners, he became ill. The treatment was expensive, but it was either that or death." She murmured, swallowing back a large knot in her throat and trying to keep her tears from spilling. "But then it got worse. They raised the prices again, and again. Until we could pay no longer. I was bound to watch my beloved Lucian slowly wither and die, suffering day after day of agony. No matter how much I begged, they didn't want to listen. One even suggested, mocking me, that I pay with my body..."

Infuriating, though Rev remained outwardly calm and sympathetic to the woman. She seemed to have lost her ability to hold her in and now the tears slid down her cheeks, falling upon the ground drop by drop off her chin. "Have the authorities become so corrupt?" He asked, a question which was met with a gaze of confusion, followed by immediate understanding. "Not the authorities. It's Lawrence Xanthias' men who are doing this..." She sighed, stifling a sob that barely escaped her chest. "Those sons of..." she huffed "They took control of Ravenport's underworld and they do as they please. There's no one to stop them. Dear Captain Wulfe is too busy doing nothing and the oafs who are supposed to protect us are nothing more but puppets on a string or bumbling idiots at best." Matilda said, her sadness turning into bitter hatred almost in an instant. "Xanthias' men have taken over the trade route and hijacked every caravan with medical supplies coming from Ravenport. They take everything and they sell it to us at double, even triple the price. Our husbands and sons die toiling in the mines and there's nothing we can do. No one we can ask for help."

It did seem as though this place was in dire need of help though again, Rev knew that he and Charlie had to catch up to their targets. Getting involved into something of this sort could take a while and they didn't have the time to waste. But again, it had pained him to see the poor woman in such a state.

"Madam, we cannot promise much, but we will at least try to do something, if that is what you want of us." He said, speaking in his well exercised calm and yet firm tone. But for that we will need to get inside the city."

"Right." Matilda said, wiping at the tears at the corners of her eyes. "I know of an old smuggling route that goes from outside the city to within. It comes out within a cave by the sea but it's rather well hidden. It takes near the market district of Ravenport. But I suggest you go at night. Those three idiots from yesterday didn't listen to my advice. I wouldn't be surprised if right now they sat in the city's dungeons."

 

[Erica]

As it turned out, the smuggling route was a series of trails through the woods leading to tunnels through a large outcrop of rock by the sea that would, presumably, provide them access to Ravenport. Charlotte and Rev had reassured Matilda that they would do what they could about Coalfell’s problem with the medicine.

After leaving her, they had camped outside town briefly, intending to get some rest before they used the smuggling route once the sun started to set. Charlie knew they had what they needed: a route into Ravenport, and a lead—however tentative—on the three brutes and their promise of treasure.

At face value, there wasn’t a lot of money in solving the medicine issue; the people in Coalfell couldn’t pay much, and neither could Matilda. Still, Charlie wanted to help the coal miners. Everyone needed to make coin; she and Rev understood that as well as anyone. But you didn’t get greedy, and you didn’t kill kids—or their parents—for a profit. Not if you could help it.

Charlie wasn’t good at subtle, and she knew it, so she decided to bring up the topic with Rev. They were settling in to get some rest when she spoke up. “Xanthias could be trouble.” Lawrence Xanthias led the underworld in Ravenport. Black market dealings, loans with ridiculous interest, “protection” for local businesses, and even some slave trade: it all happened under his watch, with a slice of every deal getting back to him. By reputation, he was a large man with a methodical mind, swift to bring retribution on anyone who threatened his business. Over the last decade, his influence in Ravenport had grown significantly. Crossing him would be dangerous.

“Do you think Wulfe is in on it?” Minimally, Xanthias’ organization bribed some of the guards; it was part of any clandestine business. But how far did his influence reach? If Captain Wulfe was in on it, they could end up in prison or worse. But Rev had always said Cedric Wulfe was a good man. Maybe he was just in over his head. “Or do you think he might welcome some help… for a price?”

 

[Starcaller]

Rev couldn't have thought of Captain Wulfe as corrupt. No, the man he knew was one with a strong sense of justice, one who couldn't have possibly suffered something like this to happen. People would have been hanging by their necks by now, and by the roadside, too, to set an example. Though again Rev also knew people could change. Could the Captain have really changed this much? Rev dreaded the thought, but still, he tried to keep it away, to deny it. No, it sounded like the man was just overwhelmed, and he could have definitely used the help. Though obviously, even if Rev and Cedric were friends of some sort, the Captain would have to pay the coin for Rev's and Charlie's services.

"I don't know what to think. Obviously, Matilda's words regarding Cedric were poisoned by grief. But still, it looks like no one's doing anything and I wonder what is Cedric doing? There's also this whole thing with the murders, do you think it's in any way connected to all of this?" He asked, a whole lot of questions that the two of them had to find answers to. And on top of that, they also had three men to find. This whole thing was getting far thicker than Rev liked.

They'd left their horses in the care of a local in Coalfell, at least until they could return to retrieve them and hopefully get the wyvern head before it was a completely rotten mess. They packed light and carried only what was absolutely necessary beside their weapons, because they didn't know what, exactly, they could expect to find in whatever tunnels they had to trek to get in the city. Matilda had told them the passage hadn't been used in a good while, and chances were something would have taken up residence in such places. And really, regardless of that, ones like Rev and Charlie could never really be too safe.

"Xanthias could bring us a lot of trouble that we don't need, though." Rev came up a moment later, pensive, fishing in a pouch at his waist for a small piece of dried, crispy bread. It seemed like they truly would have to get their hands dirty, probably much dirtier than before. And while Rev didn't mind getting his hands dirty, he really wondered if this all was worth it. What if nothing came of it? What if the three men they were after chased nothing but a ghost? What if, even worse, they chased a curse? Perhaps he should have brought up all those thoughts with Charlie way earlier, before they got tangled in all of this mess. Well, whatever happened, happened, after all.

By the time the sun was being swallowed by the horizon, the couple had finished packing up their admittedly very small camp, and were ready to go. They'd scribbled a rudimentary map of what the path should've looked like, and now all they needed was to follow, or well, first, find it.

"This is a bit insane, even for us." Rev remarked after a while. "We're looking for a marked stone, in the dark." He said, waving the torch he'd lightened up to cast its light upon the surrounding area. Matilda had told them the path was marked with a stone upon which something was scribbled, carved. Yet, there were no stones in sight.