Angelica was still annoyed when she stepped into the brisk night. The food she had brought for their dinner was cold by the time Seneca had returned and she had nearly drifted off twice.
She strode with heavy steps down the cobblestone streets of Soran. The Mermaid's Wing was popular, even at this time of night, and she was greeted with the sound of songs and laughter before she even saw it. Angelica fiddled with her cloak and tossed her hood up. This inn was not her favorite establishment and the feeling was mutual.
The inside of The Mermaid's Wing buzzed with excitement, for this was the hour it truly came alive. Weary sailors had woken with a thirst, foreign traders had just closed up shop and were starving, and both liquor and food flowed easily under the matron, Granny Anya. Her fleet of serving girls ensured nobody would leave the bar without their full.
Under the glaze of booze, it was easy to slip in almost unnoticed.
She drifted next to a rosy sailor who was nodding off, pulled his half-finished drink to her side, and let conversations of every nature floated her way. Complaints of higher tariffs from Mirraria and a poor grape harvest in Windkeel (in fact, the year 10059 would become one of the finest vintages in history). A flamboyant magician in the east seizing territories near the Lowheaven mountains that threatened to spark a war. A ghostly circus that came on the wind, imbued a town with magic, and left without a whisper. Fantastical women were common in their stories.
Nothing out of the ordinary...now where are you, Marcus?
He was not among the frolickers or the drunks. Of the cloaked men with hoods overhead, most were conversing with nearby strangers. Two were not, but she had checked their faces on her way in.
Marcus was nowhere to be seen.
Too late, she caught Granny Anya looking her way. The matron's face grew crimson with ire and Angelica knew it was time to leave. She rose and while rushing toward the door, bounced off one of the guests. He turned slowly to reveal a familiar handsome face.
"Marcus," she whispered, forgetting the furious owner as she looked upon this long lost friend.
"I wondered when I would see you!" Marcus reached into his purse and threw a gold Kait at the bar, nodding to Granny Anya. She looked at it cautiously and cooled down. "You haven't changed at all. Care to tell me why the old girl's got such a grudge against you?"
"Not here. Let's go somewhere else."
"My room is just upstairs."
"You are presumptuous bastard."
Marcus's hearty laughter shook the doorway. "I'm flattered you think so highly of me, but I'm not gonna step on Seneca here. You two have something. I'm happy for you."
His sensitivity took Angelica aback. "Your room it is then."
Marcus led her up the rickety wooden stairs and nearly tripped on the fourth one from the top, which was particularly warped. Many a drunk had faceplanted into the bar thanks to that bastard. His room was nothing special, a hard mattress in the corner, a small nightstand with stains no one could identify, floorboards that creaked even when the rats scampered across. The only distinguishing features were Marcus's leather travel sack, partially open to reveal damp clothes from his journey, and a nondescript wooden box in the corner of the room that stood over two meters tall.
He gestured for her to sit on the bed while he took the floor, looking up at her.
"What did you want to talk about?"
He could be a traitor...don't say anything stupid.
"I couldn't believe Seneca when he said you'd returned. And now I can barely believe my own eyes. Where the Hell have you been?"
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The Old City
काल्पनिकMarcus and Seneca are weary veterans from Soran's recent war with Magnar. Thirteen years ago, fate ripped these childhood friends apart and now throws them together again as they seek to recover their old selves and carve out a life that is more tha...
