Iliana gaped, shock strangling her thoughts. She snapped her mouth shut the moment Lykos snickered, realizing how ridiculous her expression must look.
"We'll stay two days here while gathering supplies," Lykos said, ignoring the ground-breaking revelation. "Then move on in the morning after the others return with our supplies. Enjoy tonight--we won't have such easy rest while traveling."
"You can't just--a rebellion?" Iliana demanded.
He shrugged. "I prefer criminal organization."
How is that any better? Iliana stared at him, wondering not for the first time how his mind worked. By the fates, is he insane?
"Are you sure you can't stay longer?" Alake questioned, furrowing his brow. "I've a few new members that'd like to meet you, but they're out on jobs."
"This isn't something you can just mention, then ignore," Iliana snapped, drawing their attention back to her. "He," she pointed at Lykos. "Can't be the leader of the Unseen Hand."
Semele's expression became amused, Alake mirroring the action.
"Oh?" the harpy questioned.
"He's an idiot!" Iliana exclaimed. "A flirtatious, gods' damned idiot. And a mercenary. And... and..."
"Our leader," Alake finished.
"Why?"
Iliana's attention jerked to Callias with the soft spoken question. The merman's gaze was focused on Lykos alone, an even, unreadable frown on his lips. Lykos cocked his head, as if considering the question.
"Why?" he echoed. "Why what, exactly?"
"Why would you create something like this in Eol of all places?" Callias replied. "Why 'give it away'?"
He wasn't doubting it?
The question was fair. If she hadn't been so put off by the idea of Lykos as a rebel, she might have asked it herself. If you were a free person, Eol was one of the easier countries to make a living in. With the country's main exports a result of their farms, there was a decent living to be found in being a farm hand, even if you didn't own the land yourself. Sure, the lords could be overbearing, but that was a fact of life almost anywhere you went. Even Aeolis had a higher poverty level than Eol. Nokos was actually an extreme picture of the country as a whole, the exception rather than the norm.
Lykos studied Callias, as if debating whether to offer a truthful, or flippant response. Iliana wouldn't put either past him. After several moments of silence, during which every gaze slowly shifted to the mercenary in question, Lykos dropped his feet from the chair and offered them his typical, carefree shrug.
"Who knows?"
With that, he stood, grabbing a satchel that'd been laying tucked beneath his seat. Ignoring the seething anger Iliana glowered his direction, Lykos strolled over to the hatch in the ceiling she'd noted and grabbed the rope. He pulled the ladder down before turning to face them.
"Captives first," he instructed, voice cheery.
Iliana was sorely tempted to punch him. As she debated it, Callias stepped forward, silently volunteering to go first. Chewing on her lip, Iliana followed suit. The hallway above was rather simple. Illuminated by flickering candles, it stretched far behind them, most likely the length of the building, with rooms lining each side. Only two feet in front of the hatch, the hall ended at a single, unremarkable door.
As the duo studied their surroundings, Lykos arrived on the floor. Iliana turned to face him, her curiosity warring with her irritation.
"Why so many rooms?"
"Not everyone in the Hand can afford to live in a public place," he answered stepping towards the door behind the hatch. "Here, they're safe from... notice."
With that cryptic answer, he led them into a small room. Like the hallway, it was simple and lit by candle light. A large bed laid against the back wall. Like his cabin aboard the ship, Lykos' room was decorated with various weapons, although these seemed more ceremonial than functional. They covered both the right and left walls, with only a few empty hooks. The hilts of the weapons were decorated with various adornments, the blades made of strange metals--some of which were too soft to truly fight with.
"You collect weapons," Iliana realized.
He shrugged. Wordless, he stepped over to the wall and flipped the top flap of his satchel. Surprise, then fury surged through her as she watched him pull the decorated blade she'd borrowed from the sirens from his bag.
"That's mine," she pointed out.
Lykos paused, hilt in hand. An amuse twitch came to his lips. "You threw it at me. I believe that makes it mine."
"Wrong," she retorted. "It just means I need knife-throwing lessons. Give it back."
Lykos eyed the blade, then one of the empty spaces on his wall, before shrugging for what had to be the millionth time that night.
"Fair. You can have it back when we start traveling," he decided, a musing tone invading his voice. "After I've taught you how to properly handle a blade, that is."
"You... what?" Iliana asked, confused.
Lykos ignored her. He moved the blade back into his bag, then shifted through the r7est of it's contents before pulling out a familiar device. It was a collar like many of the ones Iliana had seen on slaves over the years. As she furrowed her brow, once again wondering why he would have tools used by slavers, Lykos stepped past her and Callias to approach the wall behind them. Iliana spun around, watching as he swung the door shut, revealing a small chest that had been hidden behind it. Above the chest laid a large painting depicting what appeared to be some sort of noble couple from the fine make of their clothing. Before she could decide if she recognized them, he swung open the chest, blocking view of the picture.
"Are we expected to just stand here while you decorate?" Iliana demanded.
He dropped the collar within, then turned his attention back to her and Callias. An amused twist to his lips was visible as he knocked the lid back in place.
"You'll both be staying here where I can keep an eye on you," he said, then pointed towards the bed. "Girl's choice."
It took a moment for the meaning behind his words to sink in. She curled her lip, folding her arms over her chest. "You're so fucking arrogant. Gods' be damned, you think I'd willingly share a bed with you?"
"Him, then?"
Lykos gestured to Callias, and she felt heat fill her cheeks. The merman's expression was impossible to read. He seemed to have dismissed their conversation, instead choosing to study the painting she'd noted before.
"Of course not!"
The irritation in her tone seemed to catch his attention, and Callias glanced at her. Her face burned as he studied Iliana for a second, then looked back to the painting without a word. Apparently, art was more important than their sleeping arrangements.
Lykos cocked a brow, his amusement plain. "To be clear... you'd rather we both sleep on the floor, than share a bed with either one of us?"
When he worded it like that, it made her feel like an ass. Still, she stubbornly lifted her chin and met his amusement with a glower.
"I never said that. I simply said I won't share a bed with either one of you. If that means you both sleep on the floor, then so be it. There's no rule saying you," she lifted her hand to gesture towards them, "can't share."
"Fair enough," he replied with a laugh. Then he turned and pulled a bedroll from where it'd been tucked between the chest and the wall. "How about I just leave the decision up to you two, hm?"
He shut the door, and laid the bedroll out in front of it.
"I'll be sleeping here."
Which had no doubt been his intention from the beginning. She wasn't sure whether to be pissed, or surprised. Surprised, because his attitude from the beginning had been rather flirtatious, yet he'd had no intention of sharing a bed, and pissed because he implied he did.
"Is there another?" Callias questioned.
He'd finally turned his attention from the painting, and was looking to where the bedroll had been pulled from. His expression was as even as ever.
"Hm?"
Sprawled out on the floor, Lykos had his eyes closed, already looking half asleep. Iliana wanted to kick him.
"Another bedroll," Callias expounded.
Lykos shrugged, leaving Iliana studying Callias as he furrowed his brow, not shifting his gaze. After a moment, he glanced at her and offered a nod of his head towards the bed.
"You take it."
Then, without waiting for Iliana's response, Callias moved towards the wall covered in weapons. Gripping a particularly adorned battle axe--dark rubies decorating the handle in an impractical design--he settled it on the floor beside him and placed his back where the weapon had rested. For a moment, she considered arguing the arrangement, then changed her mind. Callias didn't strike her as the sort to change his mind easily--so why waste the time?
So, Iliana moved to the bed and perched on the edge of it. Rather than laying down right away--despite the exhaustion that'd flooded her system the moment she'd sat--she took the time to study her two companions.
Lykos' chest moved at a slow, steady rate, as if he'd already fallen asleep. Iliana supposed that being able to will oneself to sleep was a skill that'd be useful in his line of work. Of course, there was every chance that he was feigning, or that it wasn't as deep a rest as it seemed. Still, it wasn't worth testing. While she sorely wished the door opened the opposite direction, as it was, any attempts at opening the door would wake the mercenary.
In the current lighting, the marks on Lykos' skin were more visible than when they'd first met. While she'd sorely wished to study them before this moment, Lykos' personality made looking at him difficult. If her eyes laid on him for too long of a time, there was always a smart remark to be made. His arms seemed to be riddled with battle scars. Or at least, that's what she assumed them to be. Faded white lines ran along the edges of his prominent muscles, most of the scars straight and had most likely been just deep to scar, but not enough to be life threatening. Most likely the results of fights or training.
There were a few, however, that were questionable.
Such as the deep scarring on the shoulder that faced her. The old wound curled in on itself, as if whomever had inflicted it had been drawing on Lykos' skin. With the distance between them, Iliana couldn't tell how harsh of a wound it might've been, but the prominence of the scarred skin and how it stretched across his muscle made her think it'd been horrid.
As she studied the mark, a strange feeling began to tickle the back of her mind. Furrowing her brow, she instinctively shifted her gaze to where his golden-brown hair had shifted away from his neck. A small, throbbing pain echoed through her temple as she studied what she'd thought to be unmarred skin, but now realized was extensively scarred. Burn marks encircled his throat, the width of the marks no less than two inches at their thinnest. Thin white marks raised from the old lines, and Iliana felt sick to her stomach as she realized that it looked like clawing.
The scars were distinct, and unmistakable. At some point in his life, Lykos had been collared.
Her mind spinning with the implications, Iliana shifted her gaze to Callias. As if sensing her stare, his eyes flicked open. She instantly looked away. Not wanting to be caught studying the two men, she flipped back the thin blanket over the cot and settled beneath the covers. Her mind wouldn't leave Lykos' scars, however, as an unsettling realization flooded her system.
Lykos was either a current, or former slave. At the very least, he'd been marked as one--perhaps caught by slavers, but never truly sold.
He wasn't harmless, and most slave owners didn't train their "property" to be able to fight back. Which begged the question:
Who collared Lykos?