[Exalted] The Dragon's Spite

I3. A Rival Decided To Bully Me For No Reason At All And She's Almost Certainly A Servant of the Demon Lord

Hair the red of the embers in a burned-down fire, tall, and with skin paler than usual for a Cahzori that made her look nearly ashen. Old armour and an old spear; heirlooms no doubt entrusted to her because she was all-so-special and couldn't not show it off. And a nasty, supercilious look that told anyone who saw her that she considered everyone less blessed, less talented, less popular to be dirt below her armoured boots.

Inaan hated her on first sight.

"Oh well, look at you," the stranger said in Old Cahzori. She looked Inaan up and down. "A drowned rat has come to town."

"I fell in a lake," Inaan blurted out, and hated herself for it.

"Of course you did. Did you hear that, everyone? She fell in a lake?" There were chuckles from her faceless flunkies, and Inaan balled her hands into fists. "And why are you here? Another peasant girl come to join up as a mercenary?"

"I'm not a peasant!" How dare she? How dare she! The Sawahir jansi could trace its heritage back to the Shogunate! They came from a cadet branch of the family of the last Shogun of all Creation — the last, no matter what Dynasts claimed! The last true Sugun of Cahzor had been a Sawahir too, and the pretenders in Zorgranzar were frauds! She was not a peasant!

"Could have fooled me. Only a peasant would wear a…" the other woman's nose wrinkled up, "dishrag like that." She slammed her spear's butt into the ground. "Let me tell you how things work around here. You won't be worth anything as a mercenary if you go out like this. And if you have no friends — like you clearly don't, well…"

"Who says I want to be a mercenary?"

"Of course you do! It's the way to fortune and power here. Unless you're so stupid you want to spend your life as a peasant."

"I'm not a peasant!"

"Sure you aren't," the other woman said, sarcasm thick. "That's why I don't know who you are, and I know who all the local nobles are. At most you're someone's bastard off-blow. You won't get anywhere, though, if you're weak and powerless. Of course, my friends aren't weak and powerless."

There was something about her, something of the smell of hot metal and dry air and smoke. It was not a fire dragon child smell, either; Inaan had met more than a few before and they didn't have that… unclean reek.

"Of course, if you were to kneel down and kiss my hand, maybe we could be friends," she added.

Inaan glanced at the distingustingly well-shaped, long-fingered pale hand. "I'd never do that!"

An anger-flush rose in the other girl's face. "Oh, never, is it?"

"I don't even know who you are!"

That only angered her more. "I'm Haya at-Takwif! How dare you not know who I am!" She jabbed Inaan in the chest with her finger. "You've made a big mistake! You'll see!"

She stormed off, and Inaan was left standing there, feeling furious. But also confused. Because that conversation hadn't made much sense. That awful, awful girl had shown up to rub her superiority in her face and make fun of her for falling in a lake. Which made sense for an awful girl like her. She was just terrible.

But then why had she been offering friendship in return for subjugation? It was like there had almost been two conversations going on there, messily welded together, and neither had made much sense when combined—

"Watch out, Inaan," Silkai whispered to her. "I could taste the power of the demon lord on her. She's probably one of his agents who's looking to recruit more people to his side."

Sudden understanding hit her. Oh, of course, that was why it hadn't made sense. And looking down, she saw that Haya had dropped something. It was a little packet that contained round medicine balls, and when she sniffed them she nearly gagged. The hot metal smell was incredibly intense, and she wasn't sure how anyone could swallow them. She pocketed them, vowing never to try them.

"Let's get out of sight, then," Inaan said. She slunk away into a shady alleyway, and took a deep breath. She could feel the shadows around her. They felt almost playful and childish, and she let out her anger at the girl by scooping up a handful of shadows to play with.

"So, what now?" Silkai asked. "I didn't expect to see a servant of the demon lord so close."

"She wasn't wrong," Inaan said. "I know how this works from my world," Inaan says confidently. "Mercenary companies gather to explore the ruins, or look to be hired by anyone who's looking to travel or launch their own expedition. So we'll just join up with one. That'll help us get money to survive, and then I can find information about what the demon lord is doing — and then we can stop him, like the goddess Lela told me to!"

---

There were several mercenary companies recruiting. But again and again, Inaan smelled that same hot metallic scent around them. Whenever she smelled it, she made her excuses and left.

"Last one," she said, approaching a painted sign of a horse hanging outside a somewhat poorly maintained building on the edge of the city. Silkai wrapped his tail around her wrist for a moment to comfort her. "Let's see how this goes."

"This is the company of the Lucky Horse," said the scarred, eyepatched man behind the desk. "I'm Ayad — I run this ship of fools. What do you want?"

"I want to sign up," Inaan said.

"What, sign up here? To the worst, weakest company in town?" The man's voice was mocking. "We used to be the best, but they've left us behind."

"I didn't like any of them."

The man laughed, in a way that reminded her of her uncle. "Then maybe you've got some standards. Things are rotten here. People don't respect the spirits anymore, and they hunt the dragons. I won't take contracts on dragons, so if you're looking to make fame as a dragon-hunter…"

"I'm not."

"Hmm. Well, the pay's a dahab a season, plus bonuses for successful jobs. Still interested?"

That… was surprisingly not bad. That was her allowance. "Yes."

"Then sign your name here, and you'll have signed up. Or an X and a thumb-print if you can't write." Inaan wrote her name in her trained, calligraphy-tutored style. "Well, ain't that a thing. A real scholar here. And you're an as-Sawahir. Well, that isn't a real noble family, but all of us have got reasons to not be who we were born under, and you look like you could be from a rich family, kid."

"This is my real name," Inaan points out.

"Sure it is. But… hmm. Some of the people here aren't the gentlest sorts. I know! Let's go find Jema. She's the company's sorcerer, and it'll do good for you to chaperone her."

He had long legs, and Inaan had to skip every other step to keep up as he strode through the halls. "Uh, sorry, sir, don't you mean that she should be chaperoning me?"

"No. Gods and dragons, I wish that were so." He sighed. "I really wish it were. Your first job with us will be to keep her sober when we're on a job. I'd like you to keep her sober normally, but I'm not expecting miracles." He hammered on one of the doors. "Jema! Get yourself decent and come talk!"

"I'm busy!" a woman hollered back.

"I don't care who you've got in there! And you bring so many men back I should start charging you rent for them!"

"Give me… ten minutes!"

"You have one!"

They waited. "She's really very good when she's on the job," Ayad explained softly. "But she's been kicked out of every other mercenary company in town because she's a pain in the ass."

The door opened, and a bleary-eyed woman poked her head through. "What the fuck, Ayad?" she groused. Behind her, Inaan could see a handsome young man holding the blankets up around his neck. "I was handling something."

"I'm sure you were. Jema, this is Inaan. Our new hireling. I'm putting her with you as a chaperone."

"You want me to look after a teenage girl?"

"No, I want her to look after you. She's got a sword and she's a runaway noble."

Jema's big green eyes welled up with sudden tears. "Oh! Us runaway noblewomen have to stick together!"

Inaan blinked. The strange, foreign-looking woman, already drunk despite the early hour of the day, her dark hair framing a beautiful face, wearing only a dressing gown was… familiar. She knew her from somewhere.

"Meira?" she asked hesitantly, but then shook her head. This wasn't Meira. Her face wasn't the same. And she didn't have those flowers growing in her hair. And of course, there was no way that kindly Lela would send a drunken reprobate like Meira to this world.

"What's a Meira?"

"It's nothing."

"Oh." Jema poked Ayad in the chest. "Well, don't expect me to make it easy on her."

"Gods, Jema, would that you could. And by the way, she'll be sharing a room with you. So finish up with what you were doing."

"Oh, he already finished," the sorceress said with a shrug. "Give me a bit of time to get dressed, and then we can head out for drinks. Get to know each other, you know."

"Not too many drinks."

"Would I—"

"Yes."

The older woman got dressed, and then headed out with Inaan down the damp streets. It looked like rain. And Inaan found herself having to drag Jema away from flirting with every handsome man she met.

"I really think this is a nasty and cruel character assassination here," Jema said to her.

"Sorry… what?"

"I said, watch out for the man over there; he's a nasty character and a cruel assassin," she said, pointing at a scowling black-armoured figure with a blood-red sword slung over his back. "And totally self-interested."

There was no smell of hot metal and fire from him, though, and Inaan made a note of that. Some people could be awful people without apparently being servants of the demon lord.

At a teahouse, Inaan ordered tea and Jema ordered wine, and then they talked. Inaan gave her a somewhat covered-up version of her own story, while it turned out that Jema was a northern sorceress, running from a marriage she hadn't wanted.

"Ayad's not a bad sort. Well, he's bad at business, but he's a good man. Even if he's a grump. Also, not at all interested in women, before you ask. Trust me, I've tried," Jema said. "It's the best company in town, even if the others do better; he pays well and he doesn't take on the jobs from the corrupt count."

"What do you mean, corrupt?"

"He's the one who started hunting dragons. People shouldn't do that." She leaned in, and lowered her voice. "I know you agree. You have a dragon familiar, don't you?"

"H-how do you know that?"

"Oh, a lot of people think that just because I like men and wine more than I should, I can't see things. And a girl comes in who's hired on sight by Ayad, carrying an ancient sword, and with a dragon familiar and a kind of magic that I've never seen before? Something special's going on." She rested her hand on Inaan's. "You're someone special."

Inaan felt a blush rising. "I…"

"And because of that, I guess I'm just going to have to take you out to the training yard and drill you until you can't stand. Every single day."

"You… you can't do that!"

"Can't I? It's for your own good, Inaan. There's something special in you, something powerful, and that means everything I put you through is for your own good."

"Oh no," moaned Inaan.

And so that formed the basis of Inaan's first days as a mercenary. Ayad seemed happy with her because Jema was distracted from her diversions, and so every day was one of exhausting training. She met the other mercenaries of the company; the swordsman Asem, the archer-twins Adid and Fady, and the down-on-her-luck warrior Taslima.

It wasn't too long before they had a job, though.

---

Article:

What's The First Quest Inaan Goes On With The Lucky Horse?
[ ] Rumours of Treasure in a newfound ruined basement, and the Lucky Horse has been hired to guard the scavenger lord.
[ ] Someone is building a bridge across a river and they want the Lucky Horse to fight off monsters that might try to attack it.
[ ] There's a pack of goat-wolves attacking innocents and the Lucky Horse has been hired to kill them and bring their pelts back as proof.