Closed The Ties That Bind [Alija]

[Azmere]

48th of Winter, 515 AV

4th Bell
Private Residence in the Eastern Quarter

From deep within the cold manor, a doorway stood open but a crack. No light entered the room and no sound exited but there was breath that laid moisture against the heavy wood. No light. No sound. Yet something did make its way from out to in and on towards the lone resident sleeping behind the door. A careful eye studied the movement as it traced a silent path to the bed. Up the covers and along the edge, the body swayed and twisted with gentle ease and grace. A flash of scales in the dim light that wandered from stars peeking through a gap in the curtains revealed a single strike with two marks. The eyelid fluttered and the watcher was gone as quickly and as quietly as he had come. The curfew of Nyka allowed a perfect cover for one to go unnoticed given the right set of skills.

7th Bell
Private Residence in the Eastern Quarter

The city was waking up to another day under the strange clouds that swirled and bickered above the Aperture. Things seemed to be the same as the day before except in the Ashenburrow residence. One of the most prominent families in the Southern Quarter, the Ashenburrows built a small empire on trade and espionage. The great matriarch, Lady Delia, runs her family and all associated businesses with a laced fist that knows a lie before it passes the lips and can spot a good investment a year away from her glorious ivory bathtub. However, on this morning, she was pacing in her library waiting for a solution to her problem not more excuses.

The double doors, intricately carved with stalks of wheat and tools of the harvest, swung open with a nervous looking young man standing at the threshold. He was dressed in the garb of a house servant and couldn’t have been more than seventeen. His eyes seemed to jitter from the fear that gripped him as he tenderly tread forward. Lady Delia didn’t seem to notice his arrival. The woman was in her sixties but still created a striking silhouette in the large multi-paned window. Her delicate blonde hair was finely interwoven with white strands and tucked up into a hasty bun leaving only a few wavy locks to outline her thin face. Icy blue eyes peered over thin-framed rectangular glasses at a maroon ribbon that had been wrung countless times between her gloved hands. She suddenly turned causing the finely made silken dress to shift and sway on her hips. The cold gaze fell upon the servant who froze and instantly began stuttering. He shifted his weight uncomfortably trying to find the words that would allow him to leave.

The lady of the house moved around a large chair near the window which she used for reading by Syna’s light. Her gait was close and swift but smooth using the length of the aquamarine fabric to give her the appearance of floating along the floor to where the boy was still fumbling over his uneducated tongue. Her left hand kept the ribbon while the right reached out and softly touched his cheek. This caress silenced his fear and nonsensical jabbering. His young face looked to her with his jaw slack and mouth open. “What do you have to tell me, young master Jones?” Delia’s voice was like warm butter melted over a freshly made biscuit and it softened the lad into confessing the news that had brought him to her.

“Your ladyship, I have something for you.” He produced his hand as a fist, palm up. Once the woman’s eyes dropped down to catch his slow movement, he allowed his fingers to extend and reveal a signet ring. “This was found by the back gate by the gardener when he was making his rounds this morning.” Lady Delia took the ring and walked past the boy as if he didn’t exist. Her eyes locked onto the piece of jewelry as she lifted it to eye level allowing her to display immaculate posture while resuming the act of pacing around the library. A gentle wave of her empty hand dismissed the lad who left with a huge sigh of relief. He paused only to close the door behind him but never got the chance.

A large man of impeccable fashion burst through before the latch could catch. His rude entrance was emphasized by the servant being knocked to the floor. The boy didn’t even care. He simply got up and ran away down the long hallway. Lady Delia rolled her eyes. She could tell who had come simply by his loud breathing and the scent of his lavender musk. “Don’t be so hasty with the help, Julius.” The head of the family looked to her son with a piercing gaze of pain and anger that rang something inside the man. He bowed his head and drew his arms in across his chest. His blue shirt was of the finest silk and parted in a v over his well-muscled chest covering the crest of his family.

“Forgive me mother. I-“ He began to move forward but was halted by her raised hand. Lady Delia produced the ring for him to see. The man moved to take it and his tanned skin grew red with his cheeks stained nearly purple. “The Cartedins! Those warmongering bastards!” He gripped the ring into a fist which instantly turned his knuckles white. He pounded his fist onto the palm of his other hand. “Mother, let me take our men! We ca-“ Again, he was silenced by her long delicate fingers straightened and raised.

Lady Delia had a soft smile on her face which made her hollow cheeks and thin lips seem to twinkle in the morning rays. She tilted her head at Julius. “My boy, your problem is that you’re all heart and no wit.” She moved to him and placed her cold hand over his while lifting his chin to make him stare into her eyes. “Emotion is useful but not yet…not without facts.” The older woman easily removed the ring from him and went about the library touching various books and speaking to him the truth that she has discerned from the matter. “Your uncle’s death does not fall on the Cartedins as we are led to believe.” She set the ring down on a small table whose four legs were each carved in the likeness of the city’s patron Alvinas. “I have a very good notion that the VonCurracas are behind all of this. The ring is merely to throw us off track.” She turned to face her son once more. “Take a few of your men and find me a blacksmith not affiliated with any guild.” Her voice became less sweet as an edge rose behind her tone. The pitch that was growing was one of a cold, sharp blade. “You and your men will have a chance for vengeance. I promise you, Julius but not yet.”

Julius nodded understanding that his mother was almost always right. He knew his place. He turned and started heading out but stopped to catch her last request. “No one in this house travels alone, son. No one.” Julius nodded. “Of course, mother.” With that, he was gone with only the diminishing echoes of his boots to keep Lady Delia company. She walked to window and stared at the ominous clouds above the Aperture with her hands once again folded around the maroon ribbon.

8th Bell
The Streets of the Eastern Quarter

Julius and three of his men stood across the street from some simple homes talking amongst themselves. They seemed out of place in their finery. If one wasn’t paying attention, he might mistake the silk sleeves and polished boots with the feathered hats and pristine gloves for a group of easy marks. That mistake would possibly be his last. Upon closer inspection, each man carried a hatchet or meat cleaver as well as a dagger or a smooth club. These weapons were clean and polished but it didn’t hide the knicks and the occasional stain of deep crimson which conveyed the amount of purposeful use. The other fact is that none of these men bore any scars as a testament to their skill. Julius motioned with his head towards a small sign hanging by one of the doors. Two of his bodyguards waked across the street and opened the door.

‘The Ocean’s Forge’ was printed on the sign and the men entered then began a quick scan of the room. Each set of eyes seemed to take in every inch and detail including the stairs off to the side. One motioned to the other and they thumped their boots over to that side of the small shop. It was quaint; certainly small enough for what they wanted. The taller man looked up the staircase and then back to his companion. With a look, the shorter man walked to the door and nodded to Julius and the third guard. It took but a tick and the two became four. Julius looked around and dismissed two of the men back outside leaving just himself and the tall man.

The wealthy heir walked to the counter and struck the bell. He planted a hand on the edge of the heavy counter and leaned his weight onto it allowing his other hand to idly sink to the flat of his hatchet. He was hoping that whatever sort of filth that ran this dumpy little smithy wasn’t drunk in a tavern. He looked to his guard and gave a frustrated look. “Maybe the poor bastard decided his life was too much and decided to jump into the Aperture.” The tall man laughed a light chuckle that rang with a deep resonance. It made one wonder just how deep his voice might be.

[Alija]

Syna was late to her window, peering in only after the woman had left her bed and dressed. She wore her blue dress, taking the half cape on top to keep her warm. One of the scarves she had purchased with Pulren went on to, preparing her for the temperature outside. Alija had plans for today, the first of which would be to take the dogs for a quick walk along the docks. She didn't want to catch a chill from the cold. She made to leave, before returning for the lace trimmed gloves. They weren't the warmest, but would do something to protect her fingers from the cold.

Alija crept into Kial's bedroom, where the smaller dog lay at the foot of his bed. She picked the pup up in her hands, receiving a quick lick on her nose. Trying not to wake the boy, she hurried out quickly, letting Trump scamper down the stairs to the door to the shop, and to the outside. She followed briskly, stopping only to brush her hair out of her eyes, running her fingers through it again to get out any knots.

The noise of a bell came up from downstairs, causing Alija to hesitate. Hadn't she locked the door the night before? Thinking back, she remembered leaving the forge, placing the newly crafted hoe on the shelf... and returning upstairs without making sure the door was locked.
Still, why hadn't Rosco made a noise? Because they were customers, and he only barked if someone came in the middle of the night and caused trouble.

Smartening herself a little more, she prepared herself to greet whoever it was. She turned the key in the lock, stepping out onto the platform. "...decided to jump in the Aperture," she heard the man by the counter say, his tall companion giving a deep laugh. What was funny about that? The events she had investigated with Faradae, with dogs jumping off the Cursed Bridge, wasn't funny. The three men walking off the edge to their deaths wasn't funny. Nothing to do with the Aperture could be considered funny.

Alija steadied herself, reminding herself that her business was nothing to do with their opinions. All she was here for was to take their order and make whatever it was that they needed. Not to question their sense of humour.

She descended down the stairs gracefully, followed by a pup that was rough with her descent, slipping down the wood. Her hand rested a moment on the railing, hand-made by her father and added to and repaired by herself. The man wore finery, silk sleeves, pristine gloves, polished boots and a fine hat. It made her feel out of place, despite the fact she wore presentable clothes.

A blade hung at his hip, which his hand rested on lightly. He leaned against the counter with an idle expression, waiting for her arrival. She moved towards the counter, not even looking at the tall man that accompanied him. Alija let him wait until she moved behind the counter, pulling her hair back out of her face as she did.

Finally, she gave her best smile, "Good day, sir, may I welcome you to the Ocean's Forge. How may I help you?" Despite the fact she didn't like the look of him, and the fact that she was meant to be walking her dogs at the current moment, she stayed, ready to serve him. A man that looked his wealth would most certainly mean a lot of money for her.

[Azmere]

Julius turned his gaze towards the stairs when the faint click of a lock made its way to his ears. His cool gaze lingered in wait for the smith to appear. Even in the dim light, the man’s eyes seemed to glisten with a watery grey hue. If one looked close enough, they might see the reflection of the puppy’s awkward descent of the steps and then the small-framed woman who followed. Julius lifted his right eyebrow in a deep arch outright questioning her place in a smith’s home without saying a word. While being known for his lack of manners at home, the young man was quite the opposite in public.

He made direct eye contact with the young lady as soon as her thin face came into view. She had high, pointed cheekbones and hollow cheeks which Julius found very attractive (but don’t tell him it’s because they are some of his mother’s most prominent features). The wavy hair swayed with the lithe grace of the woman’s steps until she came to stand behind the counter and put her hair up with long fingers that pulled it away from her face. She revealed sharp eyes that were big and luminous which sat astride a thin nose with a plump little tip. Her attire was a bit lackluster but one could hardly expect elegance in a blacksmith’s home. Julius didn’t care about the rough edges part. He was more concerned with the diamond within.

He smiled his best, most charming grin and leaned a bit harder on the counter. The man was brilliant in his manner and by brilliant, I mean very well practiced. There were few high society debutants that hadn’t fallen victim to the easy smile and silky gaze. He was not a wicked man, nor a pervert but he did not hold to the rigors of strict society. Still, the eyes behind the counter reminded him of the sea and it was enough to wrap him into a train of thought that nearly pushed his purpose out of mind. Julius slid his hand forward over the counter’s smooth surface in an attempt to lay his well-kept fingers over her hand. “Help me?” He gave a sideways look for dramatic effect and then returned his eyes to the woman once more. “Perhaps. I need to speak to the patron about some commission pieces but you…” He let his eyes dance a bit beneath a flirtatious set of trimmed eyebrows. “Can I interest you in a ni-“ The line was interrupted by the tall man with the low voice. He cleared his throat in such a way that it echoed through the room. Julius turned and gave a dagger-laced stare to his associate. He knew he had missed his chance but turned back to the woman, just the same. “My name is Julius Ashenburrow. And what magnificent sounds represent the gorgeous visage that stands before me?”

There was a ruckus outside but it seemed a bit distant. To be cautious, Julius’ warm expression went cold when he turned to his second. A quick nod towards the door was all that was needed and the tall man slinked across the shop floor and wrapped a gloved hand around the handle. When he opened it, shouting could be heard and the finery of Julius’ entourage could be seen shoving a man across the street. The image was fleeting as the tall man pulled the door shut behind him reducing the distraction to a far away hum. If Alija’s eye was keen enough, she would have seen an angry Theagan admist the well-dressed thugs. Julius seemed to not care about what was behind him and used his athletic frame to block her view of the door. He traced incomprehensible shapes on the counter with his left pinky and looked up at Alija. “Now…where were we, dear lady?”

[Alija]

The man made eye contact, grinning a charming grin. He was handsome, that was true. His hand slid across the counter, eyes darting around for effect. But it didn't interest Alija. He had started badly, this wasn't going to make her like him. Still, a small part of her enjoyed the flirting, especially from a man of his wealth and appearance.

Then he said that he needed to speak with the patron, and it appeared that he wasn't referring to her. Her mood darkened at this assumption. Did he not think her fit to run an establishment like this? She was the patron, about to announce it when instead the man's friend interrupted with a cough.

He made another desperate attempt at wooing her, but now she was completely annoyed, not falling for him anymore. His way of asking for her name was overdone and started a short glare as she introduced herself, before returning to a forced smile she gave to customers she didn't like. Stay nice, she reminded herself, stay nice. "I am Alija Piper, the-"

Noises from outside interrupted her again, stopping her from announcing that she was the owner and sole worker. Alija peered towards the door, moving towards it until Julius' companion opened it. A group of well-dressed men, almost similar to Julius and his companion, shoving Thegans. With her continued stare, Julius moved in the way of the closed door and traced shapes into the counter.

Alija ignored him, marched past the two men towards the door. She had an aura of pure anger and authority, determined to sort things out with her best friend and Julius' men. He had started on the wrong foot, and wasn't making any action to move to the other one. Before anyone could do anything about it, she burst through the door, moving to Thegans.

Ticks later and she realised that she was in the middle of a fight, unarmed and incapable to defend herself. Lump rising in her throat, she called out to Julius, "Stop this at once and we can move on to whatever business you require." She cast nervous glances at the clubs or daggers or hatchets. Hopefully, Julius would tell them to stop, either taking pity, wanting to appear a knight in shining armour or because he wanted her to do whatever the job was. That was, if the men were even his.

[Azmere]

All of the commotion irritated Julius. He was not pleased to have this pleasant young thing before him exposed to such nonsense when she should be focusing on his wonderful smile and charming eyes. He curved an eyebrow as she began to respond but then stopped. He mouthed her name as nothing more than a whisper, “Alija Piper,” but did so with a smooth grin. Julius actually allowed his jaw to drop when she ignored his flirty little game. He was normally flawless at such things but soon realized that he was going to be no match for a disturbance in the street. He followed the woman out the front door. Without hesitation, she marched her tiny self in the midst of his entourage and some random bum who seemed to be having a disagreement. He saw the flash of fear in her eyes once she came to the conclusion that she was in danger. The truth of it all was that none of these armed men would raise a hand to her. Gentlemen by nature and family men besides, these guards spent most of their time getting Julius out of trouble caused by his own hand rather than protecting him from the hands of others.

Regardless, the affluent young fellow made his presence felt as he always did by asserting himself right against Alija. What he did would not be considered perverse or forward considering the lack of space but if she knew the man as some did, her skin might crawl. He slipped up so that his hip brushed against her and using his body, he curled around her like something from a formal dance and gracefully removed her from the circle of impending violence. He heard her request and waved a hand with a very patient expression as if to say [iCalm down, dear. I’ve got this[/i] With another pivot, he faced Thegans. “You’ve caused quite a stir so early in the morning, young man. What’s your name?” With Julius amidst them, his bodyguards relaxed a bit and moved away from the other fellow.

“Thegans. Alija’s my friend and who are you to act all high and mighty, anyway?” He drew up a breath that swelled his chest as he squared off with the shorter, wealthier man.

“Calm down, boy. You might fi-” The tall man interjected but he was silenced by his lord and took a step back.

Julius watched with an amusement that was quickly fading. His eyes caught the connection of concern in Alija’s tone and began to piece things together. “So you must be the blacksmith. Well, I have quite the lucrative commission that I wo-“ Julius’ face turned read as he was cut off by a loud chuckle from the man.

“Not hardly, rich boy.” Thegans put his hand on Julius’ shoulder and turned him towards Alija. “There’s the blacksmith.” He then released the silken garment, winked at Alija then stepped over to stand a bit beside but mostly behind his friend. “She’s the best smith in the whole city, too.” Thegans had to bite the second knuckle on his right index finger to keep from laughing. The look on Julius’ face was priceless and made the young adventurer wish he could draw.

Julius cleared his throat and adjusted his shirt while quickly wiping off the crud eft behind by the smith’s friend. He took a step towards Alija with a very serious expression. It seemed that he underestimated the woman but worse…he felt like she and her friend had ridiculed him. It was only through strict duty to his family that he remained calm. He held up his left hand and snapped his fingers then opened it, palm up. Instantly, his men laid a weighted club and a small hatchet for him to grab. He snapped them down and then pushed them towards Alija.

“I need six of each by noon tomorrow.” The club was a smooth hardwood that had been painted black. It was a singular diameter all the way down the shaft which was sixteen inches long. At this point, there were several rings of a wider diameter equally spaced for a handle. If she took it, she would notice the extra pound of lead hidden somewhere within the striking end. The hatchet was simple. It had a hardwood handle that was only a foot long and the head was a plain wedge with a well formed tip that flared at each end of the tip to give a slightly wider cutting edge. The steel was well made as it revealed no signs of slag or other impurities. Once she would take these items, Julius would produce a coin purse and toss it to Thegans. The coins would clank indicating, in part, their collective weight. Julius lowered his gaze, no cold as ice to Alija. “Fifteen laats. One as a retainer for each piece. Two to give my order precedence and the final for you man, there. Consider it recompense for the treatment you received from my men.” As with all who consider themselves above other people, Julius left expecting everything he had said was to be taken to heart and followed to the t. The quartet of men walked away with their boots echoing against the buildings and then becoming no more than the sounds of Nyka.

Thegans smiled a big grin as he watched them go. He knew enough to not say anything until they couldn’t hear him anymore but decided against it anyway. He slipped his arm around Alija’s shoulders and held the coin bag out before her face. “Don’t forget that one of these is mine.” He laughed a bit and moved towards the door of The Ocean’s Forge allowing his arm to drag leisurely against her neck as he passed. He reached the building and opened the portal into the establishment, turning to face his friend. “So…I bet I know what you’re going to be doing today. Anything I can do to help?”

[Alija]

Thegans was quick to introduce Alija as the blacksmith, struggling to keep himself from laughing. Alija herself found a smile ride up, enjoying the look on the man's face. He walked closer, looking deadly serious, and her smile faded instantly, returning to the look of business she knew well. He snapped his fingers, the men instantly moving to provide him with a club and hatchet.

She took them gently, knowing full well that she wasn't a weaponsmith. A blacksmith. Always a blacksmith. The difference seemed only knowledge to herself and her father. Even Thegans made a mistake sometimes, claiming that she could make a sword or dagger as easily as she could make a horseshoe. He was wrong. The methods and skills needed only verged as the same, so many new or different ones required.

Alija wasn't one to protest when there was money involved, and while 15 laats wasn't a lot, it was for a retainer, not for the whole thing. It better not be for it all, or Alija would refuse to give the weapons she made for him up. With that, he simply left, men walking in an organised formation with the hatchet and weighted club in front of her.

Thegans slipped his arm around her, dangling the money in front of her face. He walked away. Alija followed quickly, snatching the coins from his hand in a quick movement. He looked at her with a teasing smile, and she placed them on the counter. "You can take them anyway," she shrugged, placing the weapons beside them, "You live of my work anyway.
And yes, you can help. Wait a sec for me to find out what we need to make first!"

She took the club, lifting it to test its weight. The shaft was easy, the same width for about 16 inches of black wood, with several wider rings for a handle. Why would he ask a blacksmith to make a wooden weapon? She frowned, closing her eyes as she focused on her djed, moving it to her eyes so she could see the auras. She focused in on the club, spinning in her hand as she tried to uncover the auras. Wood, wood wood. The details of that seemed to be clear. She focused harder, boring into the wood. Something metal peeked through, Alija focusing even harder. Wood, wood, metal... lead. There was a pound of lead inside, hidden at the very end of the club.

With her excitement and over focus, her hand went light, dropping the club to the floor. It rolled to Thegans feet, who lifted it curiously. She smiled at him, rubbing her forehead a little, "I need you to find me someone, to make the wooden part. I'll happily provide the lead to go inside. But wait first."

She then turned to the hatchet. A foot long handle, with a plain wedge that flared at the tip. She could make that, modifying a normal axe a little to make the flared tip and wider cutting edge. "Get whoever you find to make six handles as well, foot long." She didn't need to use auristics on the hatchet to recognise the metal. It was steel, she could just tell from a lifetime around the metal.

He nodded, leaving quickly, as Alija moved to the store, finding some lead tucked towards the side. She took it, trying to gouge its weight. Five pounds? Six pounds? She couldn't tell, but it would work. All she needed to do was separate it into smaller sections and shape it into thinner rods to slip inside the wood.
oocWill be continued in another post

[Alija]

She took the lead, placing it in the fire to warm up. Once it was glowing cherry red, she moved it to the vice, securing it firmly in place. Once she had, she realised she had no idea where to cut it. Guessing what was halfway, she placed her chisel down, hammering hard to cut clean through the metal. The boiling piece slipped to the floor, just missing her.

This time, she waited for it to all cool before measuring it out, marking on the cut locations with a simple nick. Once she had it all measured out, she started again, letting the chisel work its way around the bar and eventually meet at the middle. She repeated until each piece of metal had fallen to the floor, clanging as it did and narrowly missing her each time.

Then she gathered each on, beginning the shape it into a long rod that was a little thinner than the club would be. She drew the metal out, using the back of the hammer to make ridges to smooth. Then, once it was the required length and thickness, she began to smooth it out, twisting it after every blow, just slightly, to start with the gradual curve. As always, it was rough at first, but smoothed out with every hammer blow, becoming perfectly round. Or almost there.

Soon enough, all of the rods were the right shape and size, so she placed them to the side, ready to work on the six hatchets. She could them. She had the steel ready this time, so didn't have to worry about that part. Instead all she had to do was make an axe like she knew how, before modifying it to make it a weapon. She took the piece, drawing and upsetting it to make a square shape. Then the smith chose and end to form into the sharp part, drawing it out. The metal curved up and down, but formed a thinner point, the sharp end clear. The tip flared, Alija careful to replicate that part. She could draw it out by hitting it with the corner of the hammer, moving the metal around rather easily.

Alija reached a suitable sharpness, enough that meant all it needed was some sharpening to be a useful weapon. Perhaps if they knew their weapons well, they would realise the hatchet was more like a tool than a weapon. Still, she was a blacksmith, not a weaponsmith. She made sure to remind herself everytime she looked to point out a flaw in what she had made. As a tool, the axe was perfect.

She still had to adjust it to fit on the end of a wooden handle, but that part wouldn’t be too hard. She drew out the other end, forming a small lump, which she then place on the anvil, blade the right way up. Hooking the lump over the face, she hammered down, making the metal thicker, thick enough to be able to the punch a hole through. Just as she needed another pair of arms, Thegans arrived again, smiling. "Found someone. We'll drop everything off when we can, that's how we agreed it!"

She smiled, nodding rather sarcastically as she gestured him over. "Hold the axe head still," she ordered, taking the hammer in one hand and placing a punch in the other. She settled it onto the lump, hammering down and pushing the metal out, forming a circular hole where a wooden handle would go. "Thanks," she muttered, as she took the tongs back, using them to move the hole over the very edge of the anvil's horn to smoothen it out. Finally, she punched another hole, this one a lot smaller. The metal passed through smoothly, a clean nail hole.

The smith smiled at her work, placing it aside as she began to work on the other one. The process was long and repetitive, the type she didn't like too much. One of a kind creations were more beautiful, more meaningful, more fun, but work couldn't be just like that. Ordinary people needed their tools, the same tools as everyone else did. Even people like Julius, who wasn't exactly ordinary, wanted repetition.

Oh well. She finished after long hours of work, retreating upstairs to sleep. "Grind the axe blades, would you?" she asked Thegans, who had fallen asleep on the couch. He groaned, getting up to work, as she climbed the next stairs, entering her room. She wanted a bath, wanted some food, but she was so tired. She needed the rest. She fell asleep quickly, and slept peacefully, dreaming of the steady beating of a hammer.

[Azmere]

49th of Winter 515 AV

Two Bells Past Noon
Eastern Quarter

There was a gathering of people mingling about a few carts that had popped up in one of the nicer neighborhoods. The vendors sold a variety of items ranging from moderately well-made clothing to fancy trinkets and the beloved necessity of a food cart. The chef was discussing the benefits of eating raw fish if it was properly prepared. He had a growing crowd about him while he diced and sliced away at a large fish. Pink chunks of meat relatively uniform in size and shape soon found their way on top of tiny beds of rice, seaweed and then garnished with several different herbs. The chef was a small man with big hands, a wide nose and tiny eyes but they twinkled with delight as he gave out samples for people to try. It was not long before he was selling himself into a huge work load.

The monks moved about the edges of the crowd maintaining eye contact with one another and occasionally pilfering someone’s snack for themselves. Goons like these would surely make any resident of Sunberth stop and admire the brazen attitude of entitlement that seemed to follow the collective. All in all, it was a pretty typical day in Nyka except there was a trio of men dressed in finery unlike any garment presently in the square. People moved aside and even monks seemed to give these men a wide berth. They did not bother with certain stalls but did linger a bit to watch the chef work his magic. The hands and knives move in such an elegant dance that questioning his dedication to food was simply ludicrous and unnecessary.

Suddenly, the three men were mobbed by seven or eight people. The attackers were protected from recognition by masks, hoods or cloaks. It was organized and well-timed as all three of the targets were instantly taken to the ground under the weight of many blows. The four monks in the area immediately turned to the disturbance each with a mind to intervene. This was all for naught as shadows came alive in the form of more masked marauders who each delivered a single swift blow to the back of the head. Three of the monks went down instantly never having a chance to take action. The forth spun around bewildered and swung a fist at his assailant. The desperate retaliation fell short but it did knock off the mask the man wore. The monk might have gotten a decent look at his face but a second strike from the club turned off the lights and sent the ‘peace keeper’ crumbling to the street. The three men who were the target of the attack were obscured from sight for a few moments and then the gang of abusers dispersed in all directions at a dead sprint.

Those still within the area were left with the sight of three bodies chopped and beaten so badly that it was hard to distinguish one from the next. Blood pooled and flowed along the stones making intricate patterns of visceral beauty. One man remarked upon this by running three steps away and bending at the waste to vomit his raw fish treat. The chef looked around bewildered. He hadn’t moved through the brief but violent ordeal. In his mind the strangest thing was the sound. There was no shouting or screaming during the attack. The perpetrators made no sounds and the victims never had a chance to cry out. The crowd of people was simply caught with their jaws slack as the rhythmic thumping and sucking sounds of three men being murdered echoed against the buildings. None of the monks stirred as the crowds silently slipped away. The chef and the fashion vendor stared at one another for several chimes before a scream roused them from the shock. Sprinting to the sound, they found two women staring at another body. It was the man who had his mask removed by the monk. He had his chest split asunder by several quick, precise strikes from some kind of sharp object. Apparently, the people responsible for the grisly scene the next street over didn’t hold loyalty for those who failed to remain anonymous.

Three Bells Past Noon
Ocean's Forge

Thegans walked through the door, closed it behind him and slid the bolt shut. He was holding a bag of food that was full of rations passed out by the monks. He pressed his broad shoulders back against the door and looked around for Alija. His mind raced with the news that was buzzing around the eastern Quarter and likely parts of the entire city. Three members of a prominent, political family including an heir were murdered in broad daylight. Stories are varied but the main thing lingering in the man’s brain was that the monk’s present were knocked out by “shiny black sticks” and the men looked like they’d been “chopped up”. Thegans felt his stomach turn a bit. He didn’t care for Julius but he never expected high society types to act in such a way; not in Nyka. His eyes bounced around the empty room. “Alija!” He called out loud enough for her to be heard just about anywhere in the shop. “We need to talk.”

[Alija]

Alija had no desire to smith today, and found herself instead doing something she had rarely done before. She sat in the back room of the shop, needle and thread in hand. On her lap was a pair of Kial's trousers, ripped from when he had been playing yesterday. He had taken to Nyka so well, friends with all the children in the square the shop was at. Alija only wished she had his social skills.

Instead, she was sewing up the rip at the knee. First, she tied a quick knot, before doing it again just so it would hold. Then she pulled the two ends of the rip close, bringing the needle through both. She pulled it through, wrapping it round and round as she pushed the needle up and down, somehow securing the fabric together so the rip was no longer visible.

Until she held it up to admire her handiwork. It was held together messily, threads flying everywhere, material scrunched and the rip and attempt to mend it not only clear, but ugly. As she moved it down again to undo her work, it started to unravel, as Alija had forgotten to finish it off. She sighed, pulling out the rest of the thread as she hummed to herself, tapping a foot to the beat.

She heard someone shut the door, her name called out. Leaving the trousers, she moved to the side, opening the door to the back room with a smile. Thegans face didn't match hers, clearly worried. "We need to talk," he said, and she gestured him over, resting against the counter. Her brow furrowed with confusion, looking at the bag of food then back to him. Was that the problem?

"Thegans, what's wrong? Something with the monks?" Of course she said that. The monks caused all the problems in this city.

[Azmere]

Theagans sighed heavily allowing his shoulders to slump. He moved across the floor with footfalls that echoed ever so slightly as if to enhance his aura of doom and gloom. The big man was normally very happy but the way his eyes watched Alija made it seem as if he was mourning her. It truth, it was things left unspoken turning fragments of information into fear. Fear stained his countenance and soiled the fine locks of hair which framed his eyes. Upon reaching the counter, he shook his head in response to her question. Theagans set the groceries down to one side and leaned in to match Alija’s stance. He wrapped her little hands up within his own and whispered as if afraid to be heard by unseen faces.

“When I went to get our food, there had been a scene.” Theagans leaned even further over the counter allowing his long legs to stretch towards the door and brought his face within a few inches of hers. His big eyes bore into her gaze with a longing and a disquiet that spoke volumes without words. “Four men were killed this morning and four monks attacked near the market.” He tilted his head slightly. “Three of them belonged to the VonCurracas family.” He paused a moment and then realized she was still relatively new to Nyka. His hands squeezed hers as he continued. “They are a very powerful family and are known to have issues with other rich families like the Ashenburrows.”

Theagans looked like he might cry. His right hand snapped from holding Alija’s hands to her face gently but firmly cupping her jaw and cheek. “Alija…tell me you didn’t sign those weapons you made for that arrogant little prick!” He was pleading with her but it wasn’t an insulting action. Having always been her friend, Theagans had and always will care for Alija but this was something different; something instinctual. He trembled slightly as he awaited her response. It’s very likely that she’d never seen this side of him before. His baited breath floated from his slightly parted lips and brushed against her chin while his eyes frantically searched hers trying to read Alija’s thoughts.