39, Spring 516 AV
Baelin had never before wandered so far east from the walled city. It was…unsettling. And he was fairly certain he was lost.
“Seek the caves north of the river,” he thought angrily. The infuriatingly vague directions had the half-Dhani wandering through the damned woods like an idiot. He picked through the underbrush carefully, twigs snapping under his boots and pine needles rustling as he pushed aside branches. He could still hear the sound of the river trickling by somewhere near. But he had veered a bit more inland when the undergrowth became too thick for him to pass through, and now he wasn’t quite sure where the river was. The damn thing didn’t go straight.
This was his fault, he knew. Trusting the words written on some random notice? Thinking that approaching a stranger to help him hunt down and kill Nuits was a good idea? Baelin needed his head checked.
But he had already trekked out on the East Road until he got to the Avitar River. And he had already followed the river’s edge north through the woods. And damn it all, he was going to find these damn caves even if it kills him.
The sound of a branch snapping somewhere off to the left caused the large man to freeze. It just might, he thought darkly. The woods around Syliras were a good deal more inhospitable than the cliffs of Black Rock. The mist could hide drop offs, but at least he didn’t have to worry about some beast attacking him.
The armoring apprentice rested his hand on the stone hammer he brought with him. His uncle’s smithing hammer. It wasn’t intended to be a weapon, but Baelin wasn’t too keen on going this far from the relative safety of Syliras’s walls without something that he can drive through a beast’s skull.
He waited for a chime or so, but no other sound followed it. Baelin licked his lips before turning back to the direction he thought the river was in and continuing onwards.
It wasn’t until after he had stumbled back to the riverbank and then hiked a good bit farther that he finally found what looked like a cave entrance.
The half-Dhani ducked his head as he entered. The cave was a good deal greener, at least here at the entrance, than the ones he was familiar with back in Black Rock. And the stone was a good deal grayer than the sheer black of his home. But it was still a cave, and something about it felt familiar and homelike. He shook his head and forced himself to remember that this was not his home.
He picked his steps more carefully now, not trusting the stones beneath him to be stable. Baelin didn’t see any trace that anyone was there, or that anyone had ever been there, but that didn’t mean much. Tracking people certainly wasn’t a specialty of his.
Which was largely the reason he had come here.
But it looked like the mysterious “Q” wasn’t home. Baelin supposed he should wait for them to show instead of just spitting his murderous plots into the air.
Coming here wasn’t smart. He knew that. The fifty gold mizas sitting in his pocket were a heavy weight, reminding him that this was most likely some creative robber. It was far more plausible that “Q” was a thief trying to lure people with pockets full of mizas than some mysterious man willing to help those “worthy.”
The half-Dhani sighed and rubbed his forehead with his thumb. There had to be better ways of going about this. Maybe he could hire someone to teach him hunting skills. That could potentially look innocent enough. He held his palm in front of him and stared at the black scythe sitting innocently enough on his flesh. It had been over a year since Dira graced him with this gift. A year. And still Baelin had yet to do anything with it. He was a smith, not an assassin.
And he was desperate. Shyke, if this was a trap, maybe he could convince the thief to teach him a thing or two. Or maybe he’d just end up gutted. Either or, he supposed.
Baelin shifted his weight, feet quite sore after walking on uneven ground for so long. He ran through the words in the message on the bulletin board again and again before he grudgingly had to admit to himself that he might just have to talk to thin air.
This whole excursion was already absurd, why not finish it off with a bit of batty rambling into a cave?
The half-Dhani licked his lips before grumbling to the dark, “There are monssterss in Ssylirass. The knightss do nothing.” He grit his teeth and hoped that he was speaking vaguely enough in the event that this was all some trap the Knighthood, rather than a thief, had set up. His bad day would become exponentially worst if there was some squire hiding further down the cave.
Baelin scanned the shadows beyond, but he still couldn’t see anything. It was too dark further down and he didn’t wish to wander any farther into the potential trap.
Finish this, he urged himself. The sooner he left this foolhardy mission, the better.
“I want to fix the problem.”
Baelin had never before wandered so far east from the walled city. It was…unsettling. And he was fairly certain he was lost.
“Seek the caves north of the river,” he thought angrily. The infuriatingly vague directions had the half-Dhani wandering through the damned woods like an idiot. He picked through the underbrush carefully, twigs snapping under his boots and pine needles rustling as he pushed aside branches. He could still hear the sound of the river trickling by somewhere near. But he had veered a bit more inland when the undergrowth became too thick for him to pass through, and now he wasn’t quite sure where the river was. The damn thing didn’t go straight.
This was his fault, he knew. Trusting the words written on some random notice? Thinking that approaching a stranger to help him hunt down and kill Nuits was a good idea? Baelin needed his head checked.
But he had already trekked out on the East Road until he got to the Avitar River. And he had already followed the river’s edge north through the woods. And damn it all, he was going to find these damn caves even if it kills him.
The sound of a branch snapping somewhere off to the left caused the large man to freeze. It just might, he thought darkly. The woods around Syliras were a good deal more inhospitable than the cliffs of Black Rock. The mist could hide drop offs, but at least he didn’t have to worry about some beast attacking him.
The armoring apprentice rested his hand on the stone hammer he brought with him. His uncle’s smithing hammer. It wasn’t intended to be a weapon, but Baelin wasn’t too keen on going this far from the relative safety of Syliras’s walls without something that he can drive through a beast’s skull.
He waited for a chime or so, but no other sound followed it. Baelin licked his lips before turning back to the direction he thought the river was in and continuing onwards.
It wasn’t until after he had stumbled back to the riverbank and then hiked a good bit farther that he finally found what looked like a cave entrance.
The half-Dhani ducked his head as he entered. The cave was a good deal greener, at least here at the entrance, than the ones he was familiar with back in Black Rock. And the stone was a good deal grayer than the sheer black of his home. But it was still a cave, and something about it felt familiar and homelike. He shook his head and forced himself to remember that this was not his home.
He picked his steps more carefully now, not trusting the stones beneath him to be stable. Baelin didn’t see any trace that anyone was there, or that anyone had ever been there, but that didn’t mean much. Tracking people certainly wasn’t a specialty of his.
Which was largely the reason he had come here.
But it looked like the mysterious “Q” wasn’t home. Baelin supposed he should wait for them to show instead of just spitting his murderous plots into the air.
Coming here wasn’t smart. He knew that. The fifty gold mizas sitting in his pocket were a heavy weight, reminding him that this was most likely some creative robber. It was far more plausible that “Q” was a thief trying to lure people with pockets full of mizas than some mysterious man willing to help those “worthy.”
The half-Dhani sighed and rubbed his forehead with his thumb. There had to be better ways of going about this. Maybe he could hire someone to teach him hunting skills. That could potentially look innocent enough. He held his palm in front of him and stared at the black scythe sitting innocently enough on his flesh. It had been over a year since Dira graced him with this gift. A year. And still Baelin had yet to do anything with it. He was a smith, not an assassin.
And he was desperate. Shyke, if this was a trap, maybe he could convince the thief to teach him a thing or two. Or maybe he’d just end up gutted. Either or, he supposed.
Baelin shifted his weight, feet quite sore after walking on uneven ground for so long. He ran through the words in the message on the bulletin board again and again before he grudgingly had to admit to himself that he might just have to talk to thin air.
This whole excursion was already absurd, why not finish it off with a bit of batty rambling into a cave?
The half-Dhani licked his lips before grumbling to the dark, “There are monssterss in Ssylirass. The knightss do nothing.” He grit his teeth and hoped that he was speaking vaguely enough in the event that this was all some trap the Knighthood, rather than a thief, had set up. His bad day would become exponentially worst if there was some squire hiding further down the cave.
Baelin scanned the shadows beyond, but he still couldn’t see anything. It was too dark further down and he didn’t wish to wander any farther into the potential trap.
Finish this, he urged himself. The sooner he left this foolhardy mission, the better.
“I want to fix the problem.”
