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[Achenar]

72nd Spring 516AV Midnight Market
oocHey guys this is the prompt:
[D] 72 – A rumor spreads about the Midnight Market, and a certain individual that claims to be selling a book with very valuable contents.

If you're willing to join I'd be ecstatic! I sort of figured to give the prompt a little exploration and investigation/mystery aspect to it to give it an interesting kick. I really have nothing planned, it's sort of going to be improv as I go kind of thing. If anyone joins, feel free to move the thread in any direction you'd like! Twists are what making RPing fun!

Treading the streets of the Midnight Market had always been something the ethaefal dreaded. By day, the Blade Plaza was unassuming, quaint even, but when the curtain of night falls, the true colors of the "market" emerges in all of its depraved, bloody glory. After his first- and last- escape attempt, Zaelsen Radacke had kept the the ruined ethaefal close, employing him only where he knew he couldn't escape from. And with the rumors circulating about a man and a book, the slave master was more than intrigued enough to toss Achenar into the heart of it. The ethaefal knew the Midnight Market was one misspoken word; one misstep away from a knife in your back. And at night, when his horns sprouted from his temples and his flesh glimmered under moonlight, Zaelsen had known that only Achenar's word as a property of the Radacke dynasty would keep him from the hands of those who would love nothing more than to butcher his corpse for parts.

He moved slowly through the throng of people, the pouch of mizas his master had given him tucked into the inside pocket of his vest. He would have looked the part of a courier had the Radacke hammer not been made painfully apparent on his face.

"Ye look lost, goat boy," came a grating voice, like a rock sliding over cobblestone. "I can help ye." There was a cackle, and a puff of smoke as a finger crooked in beckoning from the underneath a shaded bench. "Don' be shy."

"I'm busy," Achenar mumbled under his breath, pressing on.

"Careful of the dark," the man called out as he walked. "Goat horns like yers fetch quite a price, ey."

The laughter followed him as he pushed past the unwashed masses. Women with matted hair and ragged dresses approached him, trailing their hands along the hem of his pants before he briskly shoved them aside. The whores of the Market are eager to please tonight, he thought grimly.

He wasn't looking for a particular shop, however, but instead, one man. A man whose advertisements had reached the ears of his master. Achenar was not told of what was being sold, but the fact that Zaelsen Radacke was interested in such a tome meant something to the slave. It was valuable, and whatever was inside would likely further his master's goals in some form or another.

And if he returned empty-handed, he could only guess at his master's reaction.

For all of its bloody reputation, Achenar could appreciate the beauty of the Midnight Market. He watched the peddlers call out to the bypassers with wrinkled fists raised, holding their wares. He heard the voices as he passed by groups of men and women and paused when he heard the simple word 'book'.

"Ey, move it, freak." The ethaefal was abruptly shoved. With a stumble, he caught himself against the wall and stifled the brimming anger in his gut with a clench of his fists. Find that petching book, he urged himself.

"Excuse me, ladies and sir," the ethaefal approached, his head bowed, eyes downcast. Two women and one man turned to look at him, their faces a mixture of awe and immediate annoyance.

"The petch are you s'posed to be?" The red haired woman snapped.

"Who the petch cares, Bonny, look at those horns."

Achenar cleared his throat. "I heard you mentioning a book.... I'm looking for a peddler who might be selling one."

"Lots of shykes around here selling 'books', luv," Bonny laughed. "Books with drawings in them o' course. Naughty drawings. Bet you'd like that, ey?" There was laughter.

The ethaefal chuckled out of necessity. "You haven't heard of anything about a 'special' book, my lady?" He tried again. Probing, finding answers, this was the only way.

"Special?" The woman glanced at her two companions.

"What, like that senile old peddler down the street?" The man piped in, smirking. "Yeah, he claims it's special alright. Probably a conman looking to make a quick miza. Bastard's not selling it to anyone though despite getting offers."

"If you ask me, he's probably pullin' all our legs," the blonde haired lady interjected. "Someone should break his." There was a giggle.

Down the street. Achenar glanced down the canals. "My master will be grateful for your help."

"Yeah well, best show his gratitude with coin," Bonny snapped.

"I'll make sure to relay that. Good night." He forced a bow and turned, heading down the road as the sounds of wagons rattled across the canal bridges. A hunched old man sat on the edge of his wagon piled high with a myriad of chests and sacks, holding a cane. He looked the part of a weathered traveler, with deep wrinkles on his dark face and a beard as full and long as the foliage of a willow tree.

"Are you the man selling the book?" Achenar asked as he approached.

"Might be the man does. A man sells many things. Lots of books 'round here," there was a toothy grin and mischievous chuckle. "Books about plants, books about girl's stories, even books about ruttin'. Take your pick."

"I'm here for the one you were advertising," the ethaefal said pointedly.

"Ah, a special book that be. An old man speaks a word and the little birds fly. The shadows listen. Won't be too safe around here for long, ey?"

"Are you selling the book or not, sir?"

"Yes and no." There was a glance from the old man as he shifted on the wagon. "A horned man draws too much attention. The shadows are already watching."

He's insane. Petching perfect. "I have the mizas," the ethaefal continued. "I will buy the book off of you."

"No no no," the man shook his head, waving his cane. "A man can't sell anything without his Dust Mop."

Achenar stifled a roll of his eyes. "Your dust mop, sir?"

"Yes. My cat."

[Konrad Venger]

More than anywhere else in Kenash, the Midnight Market felt like home to Konrad.

His patron made the sprawling labyrinth of shady traders and gaudy stalls his home and "business" often called the Scarred Sunberthian to its twisted confines. During the day it was respectable enough. Spices and herbs for cooking and poultices sizzled in the air along with frying meat; the chirps, yips and growls of pets and furry, scaled curios resounded alongside the booming voices of sellers crowing their wares. Every wall was bright under Syna, alive with greens and reds and purples and yellows.

But when Syna vanished and Leth took dominion, the square and the streets leading from it like tentacles transformed, convulsed and showed their true colors. Literally and figuratively.

Strolling past whores and hawkers and similar hard-faced men, Konrad could almost believe he was still in Sunberth. The air was heavy with humidity, the swamp water and Suvan always boiling and sending hot, wet air wafting over the city, but breath in deep enough... yes... and he could taste it .

The sigh of knives in the shadows. The clink of coins passed from grubby hand to grubby hand. Spices and herbs to dazzle and befuddle and murder, sold like fresh flowers from soft hands. Painted whores of both genders lounging in doorways, cries of simulated passion echoing from the windows above them.

The tang of blood on slick cobbles. The cries of the foolish, or just unlucky. He breathed it in and exhaled like a man brought alive.

More than anywhere else, he understood this part of the city.

"Kinda like home, ain't it?"

"Lil' bit," Three Eyes said next to him, "Bloody well warmer, though."

"Aye, but y'can taste it in the air, can't ya? This is where men like is come."

"Tastes more like-"

MRRRROOOOR!

Something furry and indignant flashed across Three Eyes' feet and the stocky ganger leaped back. By the time his feet had hit the ground again, his knife was a silver flash in his hands. Konrad paused and blinked at him, then tracked the hissing ball of filthy fur still giving Three Eyes a look of contempt only felines are capable of.

"Little sod!"

"Thought you liked cats?"

"Not that bastard! Ged'ere ya little-"

The quickest man would be hard-pressed to grasp a cat that did not wish so; Three Eyes was hardly that, and with a whirl of fur and one last hiss, the moggy vanished into one of countless shadows around the market. A low chuckle rose seeming from the very walls, and Three Eyes craned his head around, looking for just one face, one smirking set of lips-

"Eyes? Got business, 'member?"

"Aye... Aye, fine..."

Konrad knew that tone - the next cat that crossed Eyes' path would not be having a good day - but that was for another day. For now, he was on the job, and that meant something to him... even if it was playing petching errand boy instead of his usual forte.

"So it's a book, aye?"

"Not s'loud, and yeah, 'tis."

"Petch does he want a book for?"

Konrad shrugged, a combination of honest ignorance and equally-honest indifference. He'd been the Radacke's man pretty much since he arrived in Kenash, and still hadn't yet met any of them. Just a contact named "Janus", who was Radacke's face and voice to Konrad, for all intents, purposes and assignments. Even this irritating little bastard.

Looking for a book, and he sends me. Of all the petching people he could use...

"Ah, good sirs! A night on the town, is it?" Uoxi turned on that thousand-candle smile as two new potential customers approaching the orbit of his stall, white teeth gleaming against his dark Benshira skin. "Interested in something exotic? Something to harden yourself, eh, in all the good ways? Or perhaps... shyke."

"Aye," Konrad said with a grin as the man took in his face and, more importantly, recognized it. "Shyke."

Konrad moved fast for a big man. In a blink he had his hand around the bulky purveyor's throat and pushed him against the wall, tightening his grip as he went. Uoxi choked on the smell, the sight, the sound of bones grinding in his throat and the hiss of metal coming free from a sheath.

Venger's other hand came up. Holding a blade.

"Lookin' fer somethin' important, fat man."

"Y-Y'could jusht ashk-"

Konrad squeezed tighter and whatever other strangled suggestions the man could make were gratefully cut off.

"Wanted t'make sure I had yer attention."

"Wouldn't waste his time tonight, mate," Three Eyes said, playing his own role as he watched the passing traffic, dissuading any interference with a glare and his dagger pointedly cleaning his nails. "Well, not any night, but still-"

"Wh... Wh... Please-"

"Yeah, right."

"... kff! ... what... do you... want?"

"Heard rumors of a book fer sale. Meant to be special. Rare. I want to find it."

Uoxi took one look at Konrad and knew it wasn't for his leisurely literary enlightenment. He was someone's agent, and if the rumors on the streets were true, it was the man who made sure the Market was able to survive so lucratively. Not someone Uoxi wanted to annoy. In any way.

"Y-Yes! I've heard!" Konrad loosened his hand a little more and the man suddenly couldn't shut up. "Ol' bugger, derelict, peddler, what have ya! He-He showed up a few days ago with chest an' cases an' stuff! Lotta parchment in 'em!"

Konrad smirked as a distinctly Kenash flavor entered those words, almost like he'd been born there. No more of that rolling, msysterious Benshiran cadence that attracted so many starry-eyed seekers of the strange. Just another fraud playing an angle.

Very much like home.

"Where?"

Uoxi pointed with a trembling hand, and Konrad let him go. Left him clutching his throat and filling his lungs and muttering a dozen curses under his breath. Three Eyes saluted him jauntily with his knife, then flipped it in his hand and made it vanish back inside his jacket. He caught up with Konrad and-

-nearly bumped into his back. He'd stopped, staring in surprise with his mouth open a little. Three Eyes followed his gaze and saw the hoary old peddler perched among his precious words like a magpie in his nest, chatting with someone who had-

Something he recognized. From that night when the girl had come into their possession, another slave among a dozen others thrown into their wheeled cages, after their guards were butchered.

Konrad muttered under his breathed as he beheld Achenar, only realizing after that, wait, was he looking for the same thing? That would come later. For the moment he simply remembered those chiseled, sensuous features, huddled in chains and suffering the world though it never seemed to mar his beauty.

He remembered the swamp and the things they'd seen and done, days before without Three Eyes stinking up the air.

"That petching Ethaefal again..."

OOCWell, you offered and I'd LOVE the chance to RP with you, so... have at it!

[Valerius Nitrozian]

The Midnight Market held a certain interest for Valerius Nitrozian. Substances that he could not get anywhere else could be bought there, substances that he occasionally needed for his work. In Ravok he would usually have sent a servant or a slave to retrieve them – he didn’t care for the thieves, the murderers and the cheap, disgusting whores full of diseases that tended to frequent places where gods of a more delicate nature could be bought – but the slaves had stayed behind, in his grandfather’s villa, when he had left the city, and thus it was unfortunately necessary for him to visit the Market himself.

He had meant to acquire certain substances that would confuse the victim and make them perhaps slightly more susceptible to suggestion this evening – even though his official job was that of a teacher, he had never given up what he had done in Ravok completely - but the initial purpose of his visit was forgotten as soon as a certain rumour reached his ears. There were whispers about a book, a very valuable book and a man that claimed to be selling it. Normally he was not one to pursue every single rumour, but rather remembered them for future use, as bribes maybe, but this time the temptation was too great. He craved knowledge as much as he craved power.

In Zeltiva he had studied the Ancient Tongue and even Arumenic – he could probably have become a professor if he had wanted to. He had held ancient books in his hands, had uncovered countless secrets, decoded messages that had not been meant for his eyes and talked to people that still remembered the chaos that had followed the Valterrian. He didn’t know what that mysterious book was about, but if it had the whole market in an uproar, he needed to get his hands on it and read it. He wanted to have it for himself.

He soon found the old man with his wagon and was about to approach him when he saw him, the Ethaefal. He remembered their first encounter all too well. He remembered what he looked like under the clothes he was wearing now, all that unnaturally shimmering skin, remembered where his whip had touched him and found himself growing increasingly irritated. Why was such a creature allowed to walk around Kenash, alone and without chains? He had thought that the Radackes had their slaves under better control!

“Perhaps you might be willing to sell the book to me instead?” he asked and cast a glance at the Ethaefal before he abruptly pulled his gaze away again.. “I assure you that I will take care of it an put it into a library, where it belongs. As for a cat, if it is a cat that you require in addition to money, that can be arranged.” The tone of his voice was polite, as if he were talking to a man of similar station, a noble, but in truth he had already begun to wonder if the man really had something valuable to sell. His words hadn’t exactly inspired confidence in his sanity. He had to at least give it a try though.

[Verena Lorak]

The Midnight Market was not a foreign place for Verena Lorak. Most proper ladies of Kenash would never even think to set foot at the suspicious establishment. Dynasts going to a place like this would stir rumors, everyone questioning what on sort of questionable acts they were doing. But, reputation meant very little to Verena when compared to the lure of knowledge the dark place offered. Especially tonight.

Still, the young woman took particular care to hide her identity upon the request of her brother. Zorane knew he wouldn’t be able to stop his sister from doing what she wanted, but at least he wanted to make sure no danger befell her. With her growing reputation, the healer’s face had become more recognizable and it wouldn’t take long for someone to see her as a target. Not to mention, the heavy rumor about her involvement with the Rujaro had made vendors reluctant to speak to her.

And so, Verena was wrapped in a dirty, worn cloak she had borrowed from her slave. Her clothes were simple and muted. A scarf sat comfortably around her neck, somewhat shielding her face. She had even go through all the trouble to wrap a piece of cloth around her wrist to cover the Lorak tattoo on her skin. Of course, it was not a flawless disguise. Anyone familiar enough with her would be able to recognize her figure and her violet eyes were as striking as always. Still, it was at least less noticeable than her usual attire.

This particular night the wind carried whispers about a mysterious book. People had been talking about an old man claiming to possess a rare book. The Lorak had always been fond of books. They communicate with her, talking to her, telling her things without judging her. This was not the first time a vendor claimed to possess a valuable book and this was not the first time Verena followed a suspicious rumor.

It wasn’t difficult to find the wagon. After asking around, all she needed to do was look for the one that did not belong – Verena had visitied the Midnight Market often enough to recognize its change. She raised her scarf slightly higher, in hopes to avoid getting recognized by fellow buyers. Unfortunately, Verena kenw all three men surrounding the wagon. They had only recently returned from a long trip outside of Kenash. It certainly wouldn’t take long for them to realize that it was the Lorak.

However, Verena was still quite curious about this special book. The young woman stepped forward to the seller, tilting her head slightly. “What book is it you’re selling precisely?”

Boxcode by Marion Kay

[Achenar]

While the ethaefal had certainly suspected that others had accosted the old man in a similar fashion, he wasn't expecting people he was familiar with, let alone those who had accompanied him on an excursion out of Kenash. But though the scarred man had seen him first, it was the Ravokian's words that met his ears. The ethaefal turned to look at him, his heart nearly skipping a beat.

That... man. The creature's lips twitched and his fingers squeezed tight into a ball. He breathed silently through his nose, composing himself, more than anything.

The old peddler, however, guffawed, slapping a wrinkled hand on his leg. "A man does not want for just any cat. Dust Mop is special." He waved his hand like he was swatting a fly, almost angrily. His mood seemed to change with the breeze. "Your pretty words won't do any good in the dark, boy," his grin was wide.

The ethaefal couldn't believe it. Of course the Ravokian would have wanted the book for himself, and by the looks of the scarred man and his equally ugly entourage, they were after the same piece of literature... whatever it was. This made the stakes far worse, at least for the only slave among the party.

"He's not going to give you the book, m'lord," Achenar told Valerius tightly, avoiding his gaze. "And I doubt he'd just give it up to you two either." He shot a glance at Konrad and the rotund fellow that had followed him.

"One smart thing to come out of your mouth," the old man cackled. "Dust Mop, or no deal, eh?" There was a pause then, as he turned his beady eyes on the only woman to approach. The ethaefal's eyes narrowed at the precarious clothes that adorned her. That voice...

"A book with many secrets," the peddler leaned forward, his grin wide. "Secret letters that form secret words. A man could find many uses for it, if'n he knows how to read." He shrugged, pointing across the canal, towards a darkened alley. "A man's Dust Mop was taken by those whose chains were broken. They threaten then hide like mice on an open field. They are pests, but a man's body sags with age and his bones creak under strain. And so he offers a book, but not just any book-- "

"Yes, we get it... A book of secrets," Achenar finished. "Whoever returns with your cat, will you give them the book?"

"Aye," the peddler answered, lifting a pipe to his mouth for a smoke.

Then let the games begin. He glanced toward the four others who stood nearby, and yet as his eyes settled in the alley swallowed by an impenetrable darkness, he had difficulty mustering the first step.

oocAwesome to have you guys! Don't be afraid to control the old man or any enemies.

[Konrad Venger]

One did not have to strain their powers of cognition to deduce that Konrad was not a man who worked well with others. He could supervise underlings well enough, using his wellspring of intimidation and ruthlessness, but operating as part of a group, among equals, peers, partners?

Three Eyes was a living, breathing, masturbating testament as to what caliber and esteem he held those he considered "partners".

At least I know these particular wankers...

From under his hat, light by half-a-dozen colors from the lanterns blazing around the street, Konrad surveyed the curious group. The Peacock, the Slave, the Dynast... all faces he was familiar with, with skills and stories he had seen unfold in living color. None of them were likely to reminisce, however, about their adventures in the swamp. Konrad would still prefer to just blot out the whole section of days from his memory, but that wasn't likely.

"So the Rooj got yer moggy, aye?"

Konrad was surprised at the attention (who are you kidding, this is competition!), but not so much that he'd forgotten how to listen. The peddler had rambled and weaved his tail, hands flailing,words lilting and chuckling. Konrad frowned minutely as he saw something sharp and clear lurking behind the facade of a man long-mad, but before he could focus further... it was gone. Vanished like a pike in muddy water.

The hairs on his neck prickled, tickled, like Dira was murmuring something so close that she could feel her breath on him. He scratched back there out of instinct and fresh voices echoed in his mind.

What do a bunch of runaways want with a book? Who else are these bastards working for? The Slave... doesn't he work for another Radacke?

Is this all just one massive trap?

That thought did occur to him, as the followed the peddler's hand and saw the gaping, faceless maw of darkness. That alone was a strange thing in a place as filled with light and shadow as the Midnight Market (for the latter could not exist without some light to cast it). Konrad found his head shaking even as he stared, frown deepening.

"Don't make sense," he muttered, fingering the hilt of his kopis. "The Rooj? Alla' way here, inna' Midnight Market? They wouldn' dare-"

"Coulda' paid some blokes t'blag the cat, Kon."

Konrad considered this and Eyes did have a point... but why? What was in this sodding book that would-

Hells with it, man, his own voice growled in his ear, as his tapping fingers suddenly clenched around the hilt. You've got a job to do, so bloody well do it.

As if to confirm his mind's own promptings, the group heard the strangled sounds of something furry and... undeniably dust-mop-sounding yowl from the darkness.

"Les' get this bastard cat first," he said, giving each face surrounding the peddler a hard, long look. "Then we can worry about who's gettin' the petchin' book."

Three Eyes' brows rocketed up to his temple and then settled gently above his eyes again (his birth ones, anyway). He knew bullshyke when he smelled it, and he was more curious as to why Konrad hadn't just dragged the old man into an alley and started cutting things off him until he gave up this pile of paper in a sodding cover.

That would have made sense to him... the only thing that made less, was Konrad sounding all reasonable.

The man himself did a quick inventory of his companions-slash-competition. Valerius he knew was a dad hand at breaking a man, but only when said man was tied to a chair and easy meat for his twisted words. Ache could take a beating - on and off the clock - but he'd not seen much of him as a fighter. As for the Dynast, well... it was hardly a surprise to see her anywhere near an incident with the Rujaro involved.

Her first, then. The others... I can work around.

"Youse lot coming or not?"

He flxed his hand and felt the djed under his skin pulse and tremble eagerly. If they were heading in there, they'd need a light, and his Reimancy could-

Yeah. Or you could just snag a petching lantern.

OOCHonestly, Ache, you write him so well, I'm not going near him lol!

[Valerius Nitrozian]

There was little that betrayed that Valerius knew the Ethaefal from anything but their little excursion into the swamp a couple of days before, an event that he would rather forget. His posture was perhaps a bit stiffer than before, and the tone of his voice was rather icy, but then he hardly ever sounded warm and gentle and compassionate. “Oh, I think he will, one way or another”, he replied as Achenar insisted that the merchant would not give the book to him or any of the others that had arrived on the scene. “Or do you think he’ll hand it over to you?”

He took a look at the other people that had gathered around the old man. Konrad and his accomplice with the unfortunate tattoo caught his attention first. He inclined his head a fraction, as if he were greeting them, but again, there was little that betrayed the fact that he had gotten to know him before their adventure in the swamp. He should have expected the man to be there. Janus had likely asked him to procure the book, but would he get it first?

It took him a moment to recognize the last arrival since her face was partially hidden behind a scarf. It was Verena Lorak, his student. It made sense for her to be here. She was probably involved with those that had stolen the cat, if the rumours were true, but, judging by what he had seen when he had taught her, she was not a particularly skilled criminal, and thus she would be an annoyance, at best, and was unlikely to succeed. He would be able to ignore her.

Achenar was quite pleasant to look at and had a high pain tolerance, he was perfect for the work he did in the Caged Sun, but he did not look particularly strong or dangerous. Or rather, the only thing that he could possibly do to endanger Valerius’ position was if he started talking about his preferences, but for that he would have to reveal what his masters forced him to do as well. He doubted that Konrad and Three Eyes would take kindly to either thing.

He’d keep an eye on the Ethaefal, he decided, but most of his attention would be focused on Konrad and Three Eyes. He had seen what they had done to Jeron in that abandoned building.

“What does that cat of yours look like?” he asked the old man. Apparently none of his temporary partners had thought to ask the most important question of all. How were they supposed to find the animal without a description? Once he had gotten an answer – or not, he stepped away from the waggon and turned to the other four once more. “I agree, let’s find the cat first. If what the man said is true, the search might be just a little challenging, and five people are more likely to succeed than one.”

If they managed to find the book, things would likely get a little messy. But he might be able to strike a deal with Konrad and his employer, a deal that would be beneficial to both sides. Maybe he would give the book to Janus so that the man would consider him even more valuable – but not before he took a look at it. It might be written in a code, Konrad or his employer might need help deciphering it, and that would be when he came in. But first they’d have to find it …

“Let’s go”, he said. He was of half a mind to just go to the nearest pet store, buy a cat that approximately matched Dust Mop’s description and be done with it, but of course finding the real cat would be better. Still, the idea might be worth considering if they didn’t catch the animal.

[Verena Lorak]

Even when she had asked, the old man was being particularly elusive about the book. Verena nearly sighed at his reply aloud. Something told her that he would not be more helpful even if she asked again. There was a chance that the book might be completely useless to her, but it did not matter to her ever growing curiosity. What sort of secrets did he mean? How can it be useful? There were simply too many question for her to simply walk away.

At the mention of those whose chains were broken, the young woman shifted on her feet. She had seen firsthand what the Rujaros were capable of. Slaves and dynasts grotesquely carved, left in the open for someone to find. Zorane would have told her to just walk away, instead of giving more fuel to the rumors that shrouded her. But he wasn’t here and Verena simply couldn’t help herself.

For the first time, the Lorak truly looked at her companions. It was somewhat disconcerting to see them up and about normally after what they had been through, but life went on, no matter what happened in their excursions outside of Kenash. Seeing Valerius was almost a surprise as he had seemed not too different from Dynasts even though he did not belong – but then, she had learned that they were similar in the most unexpected ways.

Meanwhile, Konrad was not quite the man she was inclined to trust – even since they first met. There was something off about him, something that bothered her, something completely illogical to her. And then there was Konrad’s companion with the gruesome tattoo at the center of his face. The young woman had never seen him before and she considered using her auristics to get a read on him. But she finally decided against it. It might be more useful later.

Achenar was painfully beautiful as always. She would try to meet his eyes, but even if he avoided her gaze, she would still wonder about what on earth was the ethaefal was doing here. Even now, Verena felt something inside her conflicting at the proximity of him. It was too confusing for her to deal with, especially now. Still, Verena found herself gravitating toward the slave. He was the one she was most familiar with after all.

When she heard the unmistakable sound of a cat, Verena gritted her teeth and broke her gaze. Her being the only dynast did not exactly make her feel safe, but it was certainly a better choice than wandering into the darkness alone. Dynasts disappear all the time, only to return lifeless and mutilated. But even though they traveled together, only one of them would get the book. If at the end it came down to a struggle, there was no doubt in her mind that she would not get the upper hand. However, as Konrad had said, that is something to dwell upon later.

Whether the old man answered Valerius or not, Verena would walk gingerly towards the direction they were supposed to go. She guessed if they went on in a straight line, it would eventually lead them Reed Park, but what would Rujaros be there? It made no sense.

“Well come on then,” she called out to the men behind her.

Boxcode by Marion Kay