[X] A Hero's Ingenuity
[X] —you investigate the temple.
[X] —you investigate the temple.
You will miss it, you realize. More than you miss the Caer Rivenhold. Maybe even as much, but not more, than you miss Capalla, Lissy and Ruby.
The warmth and smiles that Wallburg and its citizens have offered you are memories so precious you will carry them with you across the continent.
Your deadline is fast approaching, so three days after the man threatened you, and all that has come to be dear to you, Leif greets you at the knight quarters. Though the man had snuck into the city during a crisis, even he could not so easily find himself among the Spectrier Knights without cause.
Sophia came with you, there to say goodbye to old friends and comrades. She sits at the table far from you, smiling and laughing with the knights that were with her in that hospital bed. Garry is telling another strange joke.
"I need your help," are the first words out of your mouth. And for all his jolly mood, Leif immediately turns serious, his eyebrows furrowing and his hands on the table.
"What do you need?"
Not a single moment of hesitation, not a thought to what you are asking for could be trouble. His friendship moves you to tears, but today is not the time to give in to emotion.
"I need permission to leave Wallburg," you say. He frowns. "To the east."
His frown deepens. "That's a huge ask, but why?"
"The Duke's men are in the city." You raise your hands the second his eyes move towards the door. "I can't fight them here, and I can't ask you to fight them for me. I am asking you not as an honorary knight but as your friend, if one drop of blood touches the snow in Wallburg over me I will not be able to carry on."
Leif looks so tall when he is angry. His presence, his strength that is clearly above the average knight, it makes for a reminder that the man in front of her is a warrior and not just the fun man who makes bad jokes.
His hand reaches out to your shoulder, heavy but comforting. For a moment he looks like he's thinking about it, about simply ignoring your words and raising an alarm. There's no need for that, there's simply no need to pick this fight.
Because there's more than just your desire to escape the Duke, there is the wanderlust.
"Are you sure that's the Duke's man? Why'd he have given you a deadline instead of just grabbing you?"
"Whatever's going on requires me to come willingly, to a degree," you say. Though the weeks here in the Marquisate have given you quite a different view of the Duke, you do know that Drake always held that the man was not a monster. If there is any trust in Drake, then at the very least you can assume that they don't want to cause a scene. They do not want to tarnish the Duke's honor.
He stands like Drake.
"Aria, Deserter of the Glastrier Order," the man says, as if using your chosen name is meant to calm you down. If anything, it makes you even more willing to risk everything to drive that sword into his throat and stop him from speaking. "Your sentence has been deferred. I am not here to take you in."
This does not calm you any. You already knew something was wrong when no word of Drake's alleged assassin had reached the border, but to hear it spoken out loud just makes your suspicion even greater.
"The men who framed me are dead," you say, frowning. "Are you responsible?"
"We are not executioners, all our deeds are in the name of the Duke van Kesteren," he says. His voice does not rise at all, and though there is a sizable distance between you his every word is so clear it might as well be a whisper next to your ear. "Our lord requires your presence at his castle. You are invited to attend."
"And if I say no?" you ask. Inana is angry, wiggling around in her ball at your hip. Despite that strong emotion she does not come out, knowing that it would just make this situation worse. The man himself has six Pokeballs at his hip, not that you'd risk a battle in the busy street.
"Then we will have to aid your way."
The threat hangs in the air.
It is four weeks now since you've entered Wallburg. Since you joined the patrol, since you saved Sophia and captured Wilhelm the Fool. Leif mentions that the man had accomplices, that in Gildera there's a group of people causing chaos everywhere, each stronger and more capable than Wilhelm himself.
While the Border Guard is occupied keeping the peace in the buffer zone between Sol and Gildera, these people have started to spread their influence across the kingdom, and now that you're aware, your ears are honed to listen and react to rumors about them. Fortunately it seems Wilhlem's injuries remain too severe for him to break out or receive help from his allies.
"How much time do I have?"
"Little," he says. He does not sound like someone who bluffs. "One week from now, we will receive you at the gates. If you're not there, we will find you."
Your hand moves toward the emblem in your pocket. For one moment, you think about calling for Leif. To tell him what happened, to ask him for protection. But the way he says your name, the certainty in his voice, the ridiculous way he holds himself.
"If you think about calling your new allies, I will have to move earlier," he says. "And though I find it beneath me, you will see that in the name of the Duke, even these borders will not protect you, or those people who have taken you in, Sofia of Traviole."
"Drake was doing his duty when he was murdered," the Duke says. He is holding something. Capella recognizes the Arcanine seal on it. "Protecting one of my house, the future Duchess. My son's fiancée—"
He opens the scroll, and though it is not large the words 'marriage' are clear and bold and red and so loathsome.
Capella's body tenses up to such a degree, a Tauros could not move her from the spot.
"— the girl who was once of the Flamberg Marquisate is to be wed to my son, Noah. She is not a common criminal, or a murderer. When she is found, she is to be treated with the utmost respect."
"I need permission to leave Wallburg," you say. He frowns. "To the east."
His hand reaches out to your shoulder, heavy but comforting. For a moment he looks like he's thinking about it, about simply ignoring your words and raising an alarm. There's no need for that, there's simply no need to pick this fight.
Because there's more than just your desire to escape the Duke, there is the wanderlust.
"We would help you."
"You would, but I cannot have a conflict between Reichert and van Kesteren on my conscience, not during a harsh winter, not in a city filled with the people who have shown me nothing but warmth and love."
"So you'd run."
"I would, because far outside of Gildera there is no Duke van Kesteren. Nobody knows my face or my name, and to be honest with you…"
You glance over to Sophia, who is so far she cannot hear the conversation. She waves at you, smiling brightly.
"I do want to travel, I want to see the lands that my grandmother used to live in," you say. "To meet those who share colors that I bear, and to see what lies beyond those mountains."
That is the truth. You know because it hurts. Somehow, your blood calls to the world outside of Gildera.
"So why are you telling me about Sol, and not Gildera?" the girl asks. "It's where we live."
"You cannot tell the story of Gildera without telling the story of Sol," her grandmother says. "Next time we meet in this garden, I have another story for you."
You glance over to Sophia, who is so far she cannot hear the conversation. She waves at you, smiling brightly.
"I can get you a letter from one of our captains, some excuse as to why you can cross. While there are some skirmishes outside, Sol and Gildera are still allies on paper. Few would stop your approach into the empire."
He sounds off. Upset about his own words, and with your choice. Somehow, just as you came to know him as a friend, his own emotions betray him. To him, you are someone he would see more than a few weeks before your journey continues.
You agree, of course. If it wasn't for the threat of the Duchy, you'd likely have stayed until winter ends. To see one last spring in Gildera before your feet carry you forward.
"If I may ask you to pick a fight for me," you say, and he perks up, one hand near the blade he always carries on his hip. "It'd be to become a shield to the villagers. I don't believe the Glastrier knights would be so foolish as to attack them to get to me, but better be safe than sorry."
"No, they would not be," he says, his agreement sounding more like a threat for them to dare. "But nevertheless, we have been pulling more forces back from the border. Increasing patrols around the villagers' quarter is not hard to justify."
You nod. "There's something else, though. Something I want to trust you with."
His frown softens, and for a moment his hair is red. You shake your head, letting that vestige go as you find yourself across your friend once more.
You'd love to hesitate, to find an excuse not to give him your trust. But that's just now who you are anymore. The letter comes out of your bag, the seal of the Flamberg house glaring up at Leif who clearly recognizes it. The confusion that becomes visible on his brow becomes exasperation as you press the letter into his hands.
"This letter was the last thing Drake left me," you say. "It's written by my grandmother, for the eyes of the Marchioness only."
"What's in it?" he asks.
You shake your head. "I don't know, but it must've been written over ten years ago now. It's been sealed since then, and even if curiosity is killing me, I cannot betray the trust of my grandmother or the man who raised me by reading it."
"The fact that we could not make you stay will be my greatest shame," Leif says, laughing softly. You find yourself relaxing. "Your loyalty and discretion would put many captains to shame, Honorary Knight Aria."
"Even if there wasn't an Order after me, I could not stay."
"I know," he says. His hand moves from up to you again, but instead of touching your shoulder, he pushes down on your head, his fingers in your hair. "If only the world was smaller, then perhaps your curiosity could be sated by the Marquisate alone."
"If the world was any smaller, I would have died from starvation," you say, smiling up at him. For once, being the smaller one doesn't bother you one bit. "There's so much to learn, Leif. I will tell you all about it when I see you again."
"The Marchioness could make time for you," he offers, one final time. You shake your head.
"I will not be able to meet her," you say, gently letting go. Nothing that is in this letter would make the conflict the Duke and the Marquess could suffer from your mere presence worth it. "I have not told anyone about this, Leif. As you say, I cannot give it to anyone who lacks a speck of that loyalty and discretion you have."
Such is the way of the Wise. To know when to trust is something you have learned from Skiddle. It is something you can never let go of. Constantly jumping at the sight of your own shadow, the paranoia that the world is out to get you, that's not a way to live.
No, you are going to trust your instincts.
You have so many questions for that woman. You have so many questions you'd love to ask your grandmother. You know already, you'd be a fool not to know that you're not just some commoner who your grandmother adopted on a whim.
But that changes nothing. Not your current and not your future path.
You're going to write your name in the stars, and the truth will follow.
"The Marchioness will be lesser to not have met someone like you," Leif says. You smile brightly, standing up. The sounds at the dining hall are dying out as eyes begin to follow you.
"Then tell her I will come back one day to read that letter with her," you say. "Tell her I am Aria, and I would love to meet a princess one day."
You sit with Old Bea. The woman does not look sad, but her fingers are gripping the cup tight as she hands you the tea. The news that you're leaving soon can't be spread too far, for fear of the knights moving before their own deadline. You know that they're not stupid, after all. You know for sure that they will expect you to make a run for it.
But until you're out of the city and where they cannot touch you, Leif has given you escorts. Knights dressed like civilians are following you here and there, and though it makes you feel stifled you know he does so out of concern for your well-being.
"The world is not kind to you," Old Bea says. "I know your feet cannot stay idle, but to have those dogs at your heels…"
You couldn't not tell her, so Old Bea is the only one who knows. The others will be informed once you're past the gate.
"It was inevitable," you say, finding yourself smiling into the cup. "Perhaps it's premature, but I cannot say I feel chased as much as encouraged to continue my path."
"A life well lived deserves a moment of respite."
"I have been granted more than a moment with you and the others at my side, Beatrice. If anything, the debt I owe you is not something I can repay in a lifetime."
"A foolish notion," Old Bea says, finding herself smiling as well. "Gratitude is its own reward, no amount of gold and labor will make us happier than you being with us."
Whatever joke you try to make is caught in your throat. It rises up your face until your eyes sting.
"You barely know me," you manage to say, but somehow that feels wrong. If anything, Old Bea seems to be one of the people that knows you better than you know yourself some of these days.
"I know children like you," she says. "I know what it feels like to run, to find the world that you love so much shattered. I know nothing of the burdens you carry, but I know the strength it takes to carry them."
"You are kind to everyone, aren't you?" Your words are strained, the energy it takes to hold yourself back from becoming emotional taking a toll on you.
"I wasn't always, dear," she says. "Once upon a time, kindness was not a virtue I could afford."
"Times were different," you say, remembering your grandmother's lessons. "People were struggling during the wars, it's what you did to survive. Isn't becoming kind much harder than having a kind nature?"
"It's a struggle, that much is true," Old Bea says. "I asked a priest once, I said I lived a life devoid of virtue, how am I meant to become better? Is someone like me, who has been taught that grace is weakness, even worthy of it?"
"Everyone is," you say, the words coming out a bit strong. "No one is beyond redemption. My grandmother—"
The once Marchioness Flamberg, the epitome of grace and kindness. Your dear grandmother, who has taught you to be good, and whose soft hand continues to guide your actions for over ten years now.
"My grandmother once said to me that if I can't find myself being kind," you begin. "Forgiving someone one thing every day will make you kinder."
"She sounds like a wise woman," Old Bea says. "I'd have loved to meet her."
"She would have loved to meet you, too," you say. You set the cup down, the tea almost untouched, and reach out your hand to grasp the woman's. "Even now, I sometimes wonder if I can forgive myself for the things I have done, but with that advice, I think I can. And if it works for me, surely it'll work for you."
Her fingers trace your shoulders. "A child does not stop being a child by being a warrior."
"I'm not a warrior either," you say. You don't know what you are. Some vagrant, a masterless knight.
"We may not all fight the same battles, Sofia," she says. You frown, that name again. "But we are all warriors, each and every one of us. We fight for our family, for our friends, for our homes."
Your frown deepens. You know those words, a prayer, though you cannot remember what church it belongs to. Regardless, the words of that old faith resonate with you. She isn't wrong, and even then, trying to hide your origin with that sword sticking out of the blankets is futile.
"Aria."
Old Bea's hands feel cold around yours. For once, the old woman's eyes are not focused on you as she speaks, but on something that only she can see.
"You mustn't worry for us, we are strong," she begins. "You mustn't look back, we will be the wind that pushes you forward. You mustn't feel grief or longing when you remember us, but know that we are better for making you one of us, and will remain better now that we have known your warmth."
The stinging in your eyes returns, and though you try, it is impossible to stop the emotions that rise up in you.
Inana spoke of feathers, and somehow as Old Bea reaches into her bag you already know that this will be a goodbye you will never forget.
Why is it that you become so attached to things so easily? Is this how Capella feels all the time? Or is it perhaps that disgusting hole in you left by Skiddle being ripped from you after such a beautiful time together?
But it simply doesn't feel wrong, who is to say that it's a mistake to be trusting? Did you not build your strength to defend yourself and others when even words will not reach your enemy?
She hands you something metal and sharp, and on it you can see dozens of little etchings. They're names from all those villagers you have met and who you have taken into your heart. You can see the effort it took for even the children to get their names on the small trinket, the heart and love that went into a farewell gift that they didn't even know was one.
Not being able to say goodbye properly will be even harder now. Old Bea grabs your head and pushes it into her shoulder. Once the flood starts, it's already too late to build a dam.
There is an outpost at the gate, at the western edge of the buffer zone that is already Solian territory.
Through one of the knights hidden among the villagers, Leif informed you that the Duke's men have been identified and are being tracked. Though the man's threats seemed quite pointed, their behavior proves that they've never had any intention of truly starting anything in the city.
Which either means they were confident you were going to play along, or they never had any intention of forcing your hand.
Which… which can mean a lot of things. Thinking about it from the perspective of the fact that the man who approached you knew the truth of your heritage, and Drake's letter that your grandmother penned a decade ago, perhaps calling them the Duke's men was not entirely accurate.
Maybe, just maybe, they were Drake's men.
And Drake would never let you come to harm, that much you know.
If anything, even with your status as honorary knight, there's no way the Marquess would protect your status in the city if the Duke genuinely came knocking. The reason they gave you time to get your affairs in order was to avoid having to take the official way.
You think.
You can see cages around the Pokeballs on his waist, a trusted and tried method to avoid accidentally releasing them in places that would rather not have an 8 foot tall dragon stomping around. Would his Pokemon have saved him if that weren't the case? Did he seal them for a purpose?
A prank, a strange trick, maybe this is a test—
Something sticks out of his pocket. A letter, almost untouched by the blood. Whoever killed the man was not after any correspondence, or they would have looked for this. You reach out, inching ever closer with your fingers until you find it within your grasp, pulling slowly because you can't trust your grip.
To Marchioness Reichert it is penned, sealed with wax and the emblem of the Arcanine. Though you know little of what that family looks like now, you would recognize your grandmother's handwriting anywhere.
The world under you collapses. Drake knew all along, didn't he? You sob, your bloodied hands drenching the letter and leaving streaks of red all over the damn seal as you contemplate ripping it open to read the stupid thing.
But you can't.
It was his request, it was his trial to you, it was—
Easy, he said. Whoever killed him must've been someone he trusted. The attack came fast, faster than even his own Pokemon would've reacted.
The man stands out, yet people seem to ignore him as they pass him by. His stature is not very tall, but the air around him makes the hair on the back of your neck stand at attention. He is not a noble, the way he leans and the way he gestures have none of that grace you've started to look for after Leif mentioned it to you. Though he's very close to it. Someone who stands with nobility, whose very presence commands respect.
He stands like Drake.
"But this also means we must discuss the Donphan in the room," he says. Capella's jaw locks up. Ruby, too, looks on the edge. "Aspirant Aria, accused of the murder has fled. The initial report from Captain Redwood has laid doubts on those claims, not just due to the lack of proper motive, but also the means."
Someone like Aria could never dream of defeating Drake, not in a million years.
Capella disagrees. She knows the truth after all.
If Aria held a sword to his chest, he would impale himself on it. That is how important she was to him. That is how important she is to Capella.
You shake your head, there are too many could have beens and would have beens again, so many variables you can't truly grasp as a pawn on a chessboard the size of a continent. It is your unfailing trust in those who have given you nothing but warmth that carried you this far, and you will continue onward knowing that they are the wind at your back, as Old Bea had said.
Sophia stands with you, half a step behind, as you continue to the border control.
They are, as expected, Spectrier Knights. Most of the people moving in and out of the border seem to be merchants, some earning a bit more scrutiny depending on whether they're Solian or Gilderan traders. Trade ledgers, explicit permissions, there are some wares that the Marquisate has forbidden from export, and it makes you more and more curious just what kind of reasoning exists for such restrictions.
Sophia, as if reading your mind, speaks up. "Certain goods can't be traded for health reasons, but most of the regulated goods are about avoiding loss of value."
"Loss of value?" you ask. "What'd cause that?"
"Well, Sol exports sugar, for example," she explains. "But if they sold the material to make sugar of, or seeds which we could use to grow them, it'd eventually make the price of sugar plummet."
You nod. That makes sense, though you're not sure if the example is that good considering the climate in Gildera makes growing any crops that grow in Sol quite hard. The book that you've received from Penelope has given you a greater understanding of plantlife.
"That makes sense," you say, realizing that getting trapped in your own thoughts will not make the line go any faster. "The letter we got that lets us through doesn't give a reason, I'm not worried about the Spectrier Guard here, but what about the Solian Border?"
"The wall built around the buffer zone has multiple entry points to cross over." She grabs a piece of parchment from her bag and a pen, drawing a rough sketch of the border. A single line that represents the mountains and Wallburg, and a half circle that forms the rather obvious border to Sol. "Here is the one for merchants, that line's always full and takes forever, this one—"
She points at the northern part of the half-circle.
"This one's for diplomats, nobles, it gets you closest to the ports which have ships. Those get you to the capital faster than anything outside of having a flying carriage."
You are certain you know what a ship is, they're not exactly common in a place like Gildera but there are enough illustrations of them in books that you've read in the knight's library. Though something else moves your attention to it. "Flying what now?"
"Flying carriages," she says again, laughing at the look you must be giving her. "They're useless in Gildera, as the clouds are always thick and heavy. The Skywrath will not permit anyone else to take to the skies. You know Mudsdale carriages? Imagine that but with Pokemon capable of flight."
"That seems… unsafe."
"It's statistically one of the safest ways to travel," she says. "Very hard to intercept, as they're very fast. Very expensive, too, the carriages are made from materials that keep the people inside warm and safe."
You squint. There's no way anyone thinks that's safer than keeping your feet on the ground. Absolutely nothing could ever move you into one.
"What about the south entrance?"
"That one's ours," she says. "Officially it's called the 'tourist gate'. It's for anyone who doesn't fit into the other two categories, though. Leif's letter mentions we're on our way to visit relatives, which won't be a hard sell."
Of course it won't be. Sol is the land of the sun, and even those who aren't born with a darker complexion end up visibly tanned by the sunlight of the eastern empire. As the border had many people born with mixed blood, nobody will doubt the request to pass through the gate on the way to the place that must be homeland to one of your parents.
Your mother loved you so much, Aria. Your father… he loved your mother.
It was the only time your grandmother spoke of your father.
You still wonder what kind of man he is. Or was. Whether alive or dead, you do know that he could not be worse than the spineless coward that called himself your father until the Marchioness Flamberg tried to pawn you off.
But that has never been something you truly cared about. Whoever your parents were, it matters little now. In a grave, buried under snow, the man you'd proudly call father will have his eternal rest. Under stone, held warm by the howl of Arcanine and Growlithe, your grandmother, who raised you more than your actual mother ever did, can dream of a beautiful world knowing you are safe and happy.
"Have you been to Sol before?" you ask. Sophia shakes her head.
"We had to learn all these things, they're important to our job." Sophia pockets the map. There's still space on the parchment, perhaps you can ask her to map out your path through the continent. "Some knights are tasked with helping important nobles to the gate, or merchants carrying the king's seal. I was never picked, my tasks usually were in and around Wallburg."
"Ah, I guess you won't make a good guide then," you say, crossing your arms in thought. She pouts, then starts laughing again when you pat her shoulders, swatting your hand away.
"What about the—" you lean in, your voice low. "—the skirmishes."
"Mostly minor," she says, her voice dropping in volume as well. "The truth is that this is kind of a game to Solian nobles. They provoke fights by clearly violating the border treaty, so knights clash and end up injured, then to avoid war everyone pretends nothing happened."
"The Marquisate can't do anything about it?"
Sophia shakes her head. "No, the king is… too attached to peace. Too full of grief for his lost daughter to accept that negotiations are failing and that war might become reality in his lifetime once more."
You clench your teeth. Over what? What does Sol lack so much that they want from Gildera? What grief must Gildera have caused in the past to warrant such hostility? Is this truly the way of mankind? Is this what Redwood meant to say?
"To the credit of the emperor, he tries to keep that treaty intact as much as he can," Sophia continues. "The issue is that the further away from the imperial capital they are, the bolder the landed nobles are. Even if they're caught, they'll sacrifice a knight or two, take a slap on the wrist, and pay some fine."
"But you said it is avoidable," Ruby says, joining the conversation after finishing their own task at the stove. "So why is it going to happen?"
"Because to defy that nature takes a strong character," Redwood says. You nod along. There's no such thing as a strong character among those craven nobles who have never seen the bloodshed with their own eyes. While men like Duke van Kesteren have fought and bled alongside their own knights, the capital nobles who most benefit from war do not even have to send their sons.
It is begrudging respect, but respect nonetheless, for those who have fought and bled for crown and country. While the world is a place you cannot change with your own two hands, those who are born to circumstances like these can only strive to make the best of it. You have not joined the Order out of a sense of naivete, after all, you knew that one day you would fight.
"Nobility doesn't change, does it?" you ask. "No matter what king or emperor, no matter what weather or what lands."
"Not all nobles are like that," Sophia says, though her retort is weak.
"And yet, when a noble is like that, it is rarely them who suffer for it." You purse your lips, not wanting to start an argument with your friend over class. Of course, the two of you have completely different views, as you have lived completely different lives.
A village girl who became a knight for money, and works for a Border Lord that, by all appearances, tries his best for the people of his territory could never share the views of a girl who was raised by scoundrels who call themselves nobility.
"I'm sorry," Sophia says. You frown, ready to give up on the conversation, how could she think of apologizing to you just because you're a little bit upset? She's not the target of your ire! But before you can speak up, she continues. "I agree, blood makes none of us better. But no one chooses who they are born as, Aria. Do they not deserve the benefit of the doubt?"
"They do," you say, feeling small. Your disdain has been far from productive, and while you find yourself ever annoyed by the concept, it's true that your expectations of them are higher than normal.
But isn't that what Noblesse Oblige is supposed to be about? Even if you believe that everyone should help everyone, is it wrong to think that those who have more and expect more can, in turn, have those expectations set on their shoulders?
"Still, the efforts of Marquess Reichert are appreciated," you say. "Not many nobles would help smaller villages like he does, after all."
"It is the duty of nobility, is it not?" Leif asks, crossing his arms. "Noblesse Oblige, and all that."
"That's nonsense," you say, unable to stop yourself. You slap your hands over your mouth, but he simply laughs. This makes it harder to hold back. "Noblesse Oblige puts all the responsibility on the shoulders of nobles. You can't be absolved from being a good person like that, people should help each other regardless of status if they can afford to—"
The wave of words crashes against the man's even louder laughter. You shut your mouth and glare at him, unable to mask your emotions. You just know Sneasel is somewhere out there absolutely laughing her ass off at you. You can hear that cackle from miles away.
"If I stayed with my family, I wonder what kind of person I'd be now," you say, a shiver running down your spine at the mere idea. "And maybe that's why I am harsher on them. I see what I could have become in them."
"I don't believe you would have," Sophia says. Her hand grasps yours, squeezing softly. "I think no matter what life they'd have forced on you, you'd have become a good person. And those nobles who try their hardest, who you never hear about because their deeds are not grand gestures or nefarious plots, I think you'd have become someone like the Marchioness."
You laugh. "I don't think the princess should hear you compare her to me, she'd be appalled."
"I've met her once," she says. "And I think you'd get along splendidly. You have the same kind of eyes."
Well, they're both the same color, though it's not like it's that rare of a color, is it?
You're sure you've seen a few others with it.
"The kindness, I mean," she says. "Not the color."
"Can you read my mind?" you ask, tilting your head.
"No," Sophia says. "You just have the most obvious of thoughts."
You don't know how to respond, so you just pout, much like she did before. The line slowly moves onward.
At the border, it's no surprise to see snow once you're through the gate.
The buffer zone, in between the Solian and Gilderan walls, has weather not unlike Gildera proper. Of course, the one major difference you immediately notice is the lack of dark clouds. The Skywrath Sovereign travels over the kingdom, and with it go the clouds, so there is never a day where you can't see clouds far in the distance.
The trip to the wall's south gate was not difficult whatsoever, the ground so even it feels wrong and artificial, but easy to traverse. On the one side of the wall, Spectrier Knights stand at attention, back to back, one looking toward Wallburg, and another keeping an eye on the gate.
They do not stop you as you approach, giving you a nod instead and letting you walk through. Sophia gives one of them a smile, no doubt recognizing him from their time in the same Order.
The gate opens slowly, and two Solian soldiers stand at attention. Their armor is… bronze and gold and all kinds of colors you've never seen in Gilderan steel. The helmets they wear have masks, stern faces etched on them.
You recognize the depictions. Old heroes, like Achilles and Persephone. They are wielding spears, rather than swords, but that's where the differences end. They hold themselves like knights, their presence is enough to put you on edge.
"Speak your names," the knight in the Achilles mask demands. You grab the letter, holding it up, the Spectrier seal at the bottom in wax declaring you are vouched for by allies of Sol.
"I am Aria, and this is Sophia," you say. No titles, no village names, no families. "We seek entry into Sol, to visit the land of my ancestors and meet family."
The man stills for a moment, then turns his head to the Penelope masked woman. She whispers something, and he nods. He hands her his spear, then spreads his arms. "Welcome home then, child of the sun. Know that the empire's laws will not have mercy for your blood, but feel the warmth of the emperor as you return to us."
"Are they always this dramatic?" you whisper to Sophia. She shrugs. You take another step forward, crossing the gate. The man ends up throwing his arms around you, giving a hug in greeting. That's… new. And kind of cold, considering the metal of the armor must have been suffering the freezing cold for hours. The noise that comes out of your mouth in surprise is not something you'd like to repeat, but you resist the urge to lift the man up and throw him as far as you can.
He lets you go quickly, and Sophia is slightly less surprised though still uncomfortable at the cold hug by the woman. You're not sure if that's a prank or genuine, though, as the Spectrier Knights behind you are laughing rather heartily at the sight. You shake your head, deciding to just accept the quirks of foreigners.
"Thank you," you say, trying to keep the frown out of your voice. "We're on our way to Olympia, would it be possible for you to show us the way?"
"Of course," Achilles says. You really need to start asking people for their names one of these days. "The road here forks at the end, if you keep the mountains in sight as you travel south, Olympia is not far. Be careful, though, as the weather near that city is quite dangerous."
You know the stories, the eternal thunder growl, the beast of lightning that once devoured an evil king and married his wife— well, legends are legends, and you are not one to believe every fairy tale.
"If your journey leads you to Olympia despite the peril, I would ask you a favor, child of the sun," Achilles speaks up again. "On the road is a small grave, a hero to me. My path so rarely crosses there, could you pay my respects forward?"
"I don't see why not," you say. Who'd say no to something like that? Sophia smiles at you for some reason, as if to say that you'd probably agree to any kind of request as long as someone had the decency to ask. But that's not true, you're certainly not going to help everyone you meet!
She laughs, as if your thoughts are obvious to you.
"Thank you," Achilles says. He takes a small pouch from his hip, it's so light you wonder if it's filled at all. "Give this to her, it was her favorite."
Your breath runs short, and the wind feels so much colder now. The minor request feels like such a monumental task all of the sudden. Achilles grabs his mask, pushing it down until it unlocks from the helmet and reveals his face. He's older than you, his skin mirroring yours, and though his armor is could to the touch, the smile on his face is truly warm and welcoming.
"If you don't mind me asking," you say, giving him a nod. "Why me?"
"Why not you?" he asks, smiling. "You're the first person I've seen here in weeks, what answer can I give but a whim?"
You can't help but laugh at this. Perhaps years of hearing about Solians from Gilderan elderly has made you a bit more jumpy, but in the end, people are people.
"I am Uten," he says, knocking on the chest of his armor twice. "This is Perella. We are captains of the Border Guard, Solian Infantry, of the Emperor's First Knights."
"Captains?" you can't help but ask.
"The ranks of the Solian army are different," Sophia says. Perella takes her mask off, nodding along. "Captains are more like squad leaders, the size of their army requires far more ranks to reach the top."
"Still," you say, the word always demands respect, regardless of the nation. The First Knights, though, should not be at the border keeping an eye on things, which means that the emperor is trying to keep the conflict contained. "I'll be sure to visit that grave, Captain Uten."
He simply nods again, putting the mask back on as the gate behind you begins to close. From now on, every step will be the furthest you've ever been away from home.
A short goodbye, and a reminder by Inana to let her out, lets your journey begin.
Sol awaits.
Welcome to Sol, Aria, Child of the Sun.
The world of snow and ice is behind you, now. You walk in the sun, and the sky looks so open and free—
The grave you are meant to visit is as small as Uten says. It bears no name, it has no real marker. It is a ring of rocks, and around it are withered petals, untouched by the strong wind that rolls down from the mountains. You empty the bag on top of the grave, and color fills your vision, sparking shards and petals that should dance on the wind, but instead settle down and refuse to move.
You spend some time with Sophia cleaning the grave before continuing.
Your legend grows. What you feel are minor deeds become who you are, who people know you as, who people want to meet and see.
Olympia awaits.
[ ] A priest needs help. Objects of worship have been stolen, and while he knows who did it the guards are too occupied to help.
[ ] A philosopher approaches you. She asks a question that you have no answer for. A wealth of cryptic knowledge awaits.
[ ] A prostitute calls for the guards. There are dangerous people around, a woman has been found heavily injured.
WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE.
WHO ARE THESE GUYS.
I can't say I hate that Aria legitimately has to keep thinking over what the hell all these shenanigans are on about, but on a narrative conservation of details perspective, I have to wonder how all these details are meant to stack up, if...
Hm.
That's actually a great, great theory... Just how many damned layers does the intrigue have here?
Inana and Spring have become fast friends, ever since their fight together against Wilhelm's Tauros. As Inana is rather light, and Spring is quite large for a Bulbasaur, the former is riding on the back of the latter, chatting and enjoying their time.
You and Sophia aren't that different, by now. While she's not riding you, she does have a habit of standing quite close, often to the point where you might trip over her feet if she wasn't holding onto your hand. The habits of a knight have not quite left her, and though you'd love to take that hand in friendship, she seems to hold something more in her heart when she walks with you—loyalty.
"My grandmother told me many stories of Sol," you say, looking at the unfamiliar sights, "and while she was an amazing storyteller, I can't say it is how she described it."
"Was she Solian?" Sophia asks, her eyes on the distant horizon. You shake your head.
"She worked in Sol as a lady-in-waiting. Four years before she returned, long before my memories of life began."
"A noble who would have a Marchioness as lady-in-waiting must be very high ranked indeed," she says.
"It's unfortunate that the grace you described has not been passed down to her heirs."
Unfortunate is one word for it. You can't quite find another, as all on your tongue is ash whenever you think about the House of Flamberg, but with the secret of your heritage now out and Sophia's own calm attitude about the whole matter, it makes them feel so very small in your mind. They're not worth it, no. Though one day, you know you have to return, to lay flowers on your brother's grave.
"So few trees," you murmur, your feet still on the solid, beaten path. It remains strange and unfamiliar, yet somehow you can feel the energy in the air shifting every few minutes. While Gildera is very much aspected to ice, darkness, and flying Pokemon, Sol is much larger, and carries a vast variety of species.
So when your hair begins to float slightly as you approach Olympia, you know it is electricity that calls this place home. The Pokemon in the fields, many hiding in the tall grass, all bear various yellow and blue colors, some watching you curiously as you walk while others glare, ready for a fight if you come too close.
You don't want to fight, now, though. That can wait until you've found a place to settle for the next few days. Unfortunately, you don't have that much gold left, which means that you'll have to find some kind of job if you want to stay at a proper place and not rely on the kindness of strangers.
"I'm not really good at religious stuff," you begin, the city in the distance growing ever taller with every step. You can see it's built around a tall hill, almost too tall to be called such, with a temple at the top. "What's with Olympia?"
"The Three are one of the major religions around here," Sophia says. If there was something she was informed about in her lessons to become a Spectrier Knight, it was the people of Sol, even if she's a bit lacking in the geography of the empire. "It's the worship of three deities, who are thought to be protectors of humanity. While they're not kingmakers, like the Skywrath Sovereign or the Star-Devouring Sun, they've helped people in the past, which led to worship. They take the appearance of three lions."
You nod. "I suppose we can ask people in the city, Gildera's version spoke of three birds, if I remember right."
"Maybe that's just different interpretations of the same myth."
"Maybe," you say, shrugging. "I think we'll be able to make it to the city before nightfall."
"Sure, if we hurry," Sophia says, grinning at you. "Race you there?"
"Huh?" you say, blinking. She's already on the run, followed closely by the now sprinting Spring, who has thrown Inana off and left you two behind. "Hey!"
You start running, though before you get very far, Inana grabs you from behind and forces you to carry her, slowing you down. You shout Sophia's name as the distance grows. Thunder growls in the distance.
The world surrounding you grows ever taller and wider with every step. This has given you a greater understanding, and makes for a beautiful journey. The Pokeball you have bought in Wallburg is beautiful, but empty. Inana is a good partner, as Skiddle was and will be again one day.
But you realize that in a fight against many opponents, perhaps it would be a good idea to find more friends to join your journey. You are a Hero. All the choices you have made will forever be carried in the hearts of those you have touched.
You move on with…
[ ] A Hero's Ingenuity
As with the Ancient Thief Odysseus, you find your way out of difficult situations with trickery and intelligence. The journey ahead is harsh, but you cannot falter.
Your search for a new friend leads you around the city. You spot a small bird on a building. It smiles at you, then flies away—you run after it.
[ ] A Hero's Righteousness.
Like Atlas, you become someone who encourages those around you. Perhaps you don't need to carry the world on your shoulders by yourself.
Your search for a new friend leads you into the tall grass. A lizard stares at you, its long frills at the side of its head stiffening as it readies to fight…
[ ] A Hero's Passion
You are invested in the world around you, this in turn invests the world in you. Much like Helios, where you walk the fire ignites.
Your search for a new friend leads you into the sparse woods. A small, dog-like bolt glares up at you, green and yellow all over.
"Of course," you say, sitting down next to the fire, the book opening up to the first chapter. "A is for Atlas," you read, "who protects us from the stars."
"Are the stars dangerous?" one of the children asks. You notice that the girl who asked is not the only one who's decided to listen in on the reading. The girl that speaks up is looking at the sky. She is pale and scared, shivering against the cold even though the fire is so strong you can barely feel it yourself.
"No," you say, "because Atlas protects us."
You point at the stars and find the brightest one in the sky. It shimmers, various colors coming off it when one squints. The children follow your gaze, and their shivering stops. You continue reading.
"Once, there was a great evil in the night sky," you read, trying to put on a voice like your grandmother used to do when she told a story. "It came from far, far away. A distance so great, one could cross from here to the east of Sol and back a billion billion times and still not reach it."
"That's really far…" one of the boys says, his voice low and awed.
"An oracle walked to the greatest city in Elysium and called out for a hero," you continue, "she said 'Soon there will be a challenger, who will take from us our mother earth. The stars will devour Elysium!'"
The children huddle together, the story catching their interest. You can see some of the adults listen in too, some laughing at the way you tell it, some interested in ways that make you wonder just how many of them have ever learned how to read, or if the many years of war have never given them time to enjoy their childhoods.
"But whenever we are in trouble, there are heroes who we can look up to," you say, your voice rising slightly. "Heroes like Atlas, who lived in that city! Atlas was not a warrior at all, he was a craftsman, but he knew that he was destined for something greater than himself. He would become a hero."
"A hero!" the children echo. You smile at them, standing up as you hold the book open with one hand and remove the sword from your waist, keeping it inside the scabbard before pointing it over the flame.
"Atlas gathered help. Dozens of Pokemon who were friends with him: fearsome Ursaring, intelligent Kadabra, and fearless Psyducks!" You point the sword up at the sky again. "A gaggle of Clefairy were with him, sending him up and up and up into the sky. Until under him there was Elysium, and above him, there was the eternal night sky."
You put the sword aside, leaning it against a log and focus on the words. How did your grandma do this again? You cough slightly, changing approach again. Regardless of your inadequacy, the children are entertained, and that's what matters, right?
"As he stood on the edge of the world, it appeared. It was red and blue, its eyes an empty maw, its hands stained with the light of all those stars it devoured. The Starscourge!"
The children make a loud noise together, something between a scared scream and an excited shout. You nod, continuing without missing a beat.
"'You fool', the Starscourge said, 'do you not see that you will lose? Do you not see that this is your fate written in the stars?'"
"'No', said Atlas," you say, finding the right tone finally. You can see that scene in the fire, you can see Lissy in it, swinging a sword as a child so happy and carefree as she re-enacts the very fights that made her who she is. "'I make my own fate'."
Atlas swings the spear in his hands, and the weight of the world rests on his shoulders as he fights back against the Starscourge. It fights back, but the power of his friendships, the power of his Pokemon friends at his side, prove too much for it.
The Starscourge runs, but Atlas does not descend. He knows, after all, that one day it will return.
And until then, he keeps watch for us. He guides us at night, and protects us when the sun is up, locked in an eternal battle until the end of time.
You finish the story to the cheers of the children. You don't know if you've done the right thing, now, considering how excited they look. There's no way they'll just calm down and let their parents rest now, will they?
Olympia does not have a wall, you realize. No gate, no guards that check who enters. While you see that there are some armored men and women patrolling, they are not interested in you whatsoever.
It stands so tall. The temple atop the hill, the buildings that are stacked on top of each other like in Wallburg, most of them look like they were carved from stone instead of wood. It makes you feel small, and somehow, it makes Gildera feel even more distant.
"Are Solians always so trusting?" you ask, your voice low. Sophia shrugs, taking the sight in. While you're impressed, she seems absolutely awestruck. The way the excitement at new sights shines in her eyes makes you happy.
"A place of worship," a middle-aged woman says, standing near the edge of the city as you look around. You turn, your tongue caught in your throat at the woman's attire. "One does not restrict the people from coming and going, as long as they behave."
You frown, tilting your head to look away. "Are there people who misbehave?"
"People always misbehave, miss," she says. The weather is so cold, how could she be wearing something like— "Admittedly, we rarely get pilgrims so young here. You look like you've had a hard journey behind you."
You try not to glare at Sophia, who looks not winded at all. You definitely need to build your stamina.
All in all, the trip to Olympia took a solid two days on foot, making it the closest city to the border. It is also the city that is, by far, the most pious. You are not sure what prostitution has to do with worship, though, as a solid quarter of the people you see at the first glance seem to be dressed to impress a very specific kind of audience.
Sophia ends up standing in front of you as the woman approaches, all humor in her face gone as she sizes up the stranger.
"We're no pilgrims," Sophia says. "And not interested in your services either."
"You needn't worry about me, young miss," she says. "I'm afraid my chosen clients have to be a bit older than you are."
You try not to roll your eyes at being treated like a child again, glad that Sophia wasn't going to start a fight right at the beginning of your journey.
"Can you tell us where we can find something to eat?"
Rations are good, but a good meal will always motivate you. While your coin is low, you know it'll be enough for a meal and a bed until you can find some work tomorrow. Perhaps bounties, or minor requests? While you love to help people, a can-do-attitude won't fill your stomach, and now you have more than just your own mouth to feed.
Inana pokes you in the side, pointing at a crowd nearby.
"A five minute walk straight towards the temple and you'll find an inn," the woman says, smiling at the tiny creature that forgets her claws are incredibly sharp.
"You should be careful, though. There's some tension in the city right now, a high priest was murdered just last night."
No matter how far you are from Gildera, no matter how deep into the continent you go, every bit of this continent seems to be covered in blood.
"Thank you for the information," you say, taking Sophia by the wrist and pulling her along to the crowd. It's in the direction of the inn, so you might as well check what's going on.
Inana sits on your shoulder, and as the streets begin to narrow, Spring decides to return to his Pokeball instead. You shove your way through the crowd, your eyes on the search of whatever the people seem to be interested in.
No matter how far you are from Gildera, no matter how deep into the continent you go, every bit of this continent seems to be covered in blood.
At a wall sits a younger girl. No, she… looks small, at least. By far smaller and more slender than you, but something in her eyes looks much older. As if she had seen so many things in one lifetime, as if she lived well.
She's dressed in strange robes, a triangle on her chest and a tail that attaches to her clothes from the back. She's holding her arms up, pointing at an elderly woman who has her head bowed in prayer.
"The Thunderbringer's blessing is with you, Agnes," the girl says, tracing a bolt of lightning over the air. You can see—
You can see the distinct glimmer of thunderstone shards, sitting on top of the girl's fingers. As she traces the symbol into the air, the shards ignite in yellow light and electricity. A small spark touches the woman, and makes her jolt.
"I can feel it!" Agnes shouts. "The Thunderbringer! He is with me! Thank you, priestess! Thank you!"
The old woman jumps up, running out of the crowd to do what she wants with that blessing now on her.
Except that's not a blessing, is it? You narrow your eyes, and for one moment the girl smiles at you. The crowd becomes rowdy, people pushing and pulling you to get into the front, holdings bags of gold to offer to the priestess. You grab Sophia's wrist again and drag her out, walking towards the inn until you are finally away from the group.
Except that's not a blessing, is it? You narrow your eyes, and for one moment the girl smiles at you.
"That was amazing!" Sophia says, her eyes once again lightning up in awe and joy. "A real blessing! Did you see it? There's people who have powers like that around? That's so—"
You want to point out what you saw, the distinct clarity of a charlatan at work, but you can't. Sophia's too excited about it, and you are not the kind of person who would deny someone the innocent joy of believing.
It's not that you don't believe in the gods or their powers, that the legendary magic they can grant people is fake. Absolutely, they are real, as real as Kael's Stand created the mountains that separated the Union from Sol. But there's always a seed of doubt of how active these beings are in the lives of people.
"It's impressive," is all you manage to say, half-lying your way to Sophia's happiness. The sleight of hand it takes to pull something like this off is impressive, to have control over the shards so they don't go off before she traces the symbol, having just the right amount to cause a jolt but not a burn from too much power. "Come, it's going to be night soon."
She nods, jumping up and down as you find your way to the inn. The city becomes more and more quiet as you get further in. You can hear the wind howling above. It sounds like a mourning prayer.
The inn is nothing special, which is reflected in both its prices and the available food. With this you should still have enough left over for two nights of sleep, though you find yourself faced with the question of your goals and motivations.
You fled to Sol to escape the Duke van Kesteren, and the wanderlust you described to Leif is still alive. Should you simply move on as soon as you make some money? Should you stay and learn about this place for a good month like you did with Wallburg? It's hard, to sit with so many strangers now after all that warmth in the villagers' quarter.
Sophia is enjoying the meal far more than you. The Solians have a different cuisine, though this close to Gildera there are similarities. While she's having some sort of fried flat bread with a bean soup that looks quite questionable, you find yourself with a plate of 'rice'.
There's specks of salt and pepper on top of it, but— well, whatever. You dig in. It tastes a bit plain, but by far better than the rations in your bag.
Something moves in the corner of your eye, and you turn to glare at the person. They're gone already, Sophia not noticing the shuffling behind her.
It's two minutes later, as you finish the plate, that someone pushes a chair to your table and sits down. You stare at the girl, the priestess who has just earlier been scamming people in the street now enjoying her own meal at your table.
Is it something you did in the past? Some form of karmic retribution?
Do you attract weird people as punishment for blaspheming against the gods?
Sophia smiles at her, immediately greeting her without any suspicion. "Hello, priestess!"
"A runaway noble and a Spectrier Knight," the priestess says, "a long way from home, Gilderans."
Sophia drops what's left of her bread into the bowl of soup, her eyes wide. She looks torn between reacting with hostility, as one should when faced with some stranger shouting your identity in a crowded place, or awe. "H-how did you know that?"
She smiles, pointing up. "I'm afraid my source is a bit above your paygrade, ladies."
Sophia claps her hands together. That side of hers isn't something you're familiar with, and it's too cute to really deny her that. Nonetheless, before your follower ends up doing something ridiculous, you decide to stop the priestess in her tacks.
"She clocked my gait like Leif did," you say, crossing your arms and glaring down at the girl "And while she thought nobody was looking, she unsheathed your sword and saw the black blade. That's not divination, that's just parlor tricks."
She raises her hands when Sophia's face turns stern, trying to laugh it off. "Surely you can forgive a young girl for her tricks, Miss. I am truly sorry, is it a crime to try and lighten the mood?"
"You're a terrible priestess," you say, shrugging. Sophia looks crestfallen, her eyes cast down and to the side. You reach out, patting her on the hand. She lightens up slightly, though her shoulders still slump. "I'd introduce us, but I'm certain you've been hovering around us long enough to know our names."
"My benefactor is generous indeed," she says, her arms wide as she bows to you. "I am Ray, Maiden of the Thunderbringer. It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Aria, Sophia."
"An honor for sure," you say. "I'm sure there's a good reason why you decided to spoil our meal."
"Please, Miss Aria," Ray says, her lips reminding you of a Nickit for some reason as she smiles up at you. "There's no need for hostility, is there? We are all friends here, and friends share with each other."
"Of course, friend," you say, smiling at her. You want to say you don't take pleasure in the way her own smile strains in the face of yours. She's clearly not used to people figuring out her tricks so fast, which does speak for her young age. Still, the curiosity gets the better of you. "How old are you anyway?"
"One must not ask a lady her age, don't you know," she says, leaning back into the chair. And that answer immediately makes you doubt your own perception again. "Some people are simply blessed with an unaging demeanor."
You don't know why you dislike her so much.
Maybe because that woman, Agnes, reminded you of Old Bea.
"I know, I know, you didn't like the blessing that I gave the old woman," she says. You can't help but flinch at the easy read she gave you.
"Obvious thoughts," Sophia murmurs, cheering up just enough to make a joke at your expense. You sigh.
"Yes," you say, "I don't think that selling fake blessings using thunderstones speaks well for your character."
"The blessing was fake?" Sophia asks, her voice going up several pitches. You blink. She still thought that was real even though the priestess is clearly a scam artist? You really need to speak with Sophia later before she ends up losing money to someone like this.
"Was it?" Ray asks, grabbing a bit of that stone from her pocket and tracing a circle in the air with it. "I sell people what they want, whether or not I offer it. She needed courage, and all it took was a spark to ignite it."
"She had that courage in her all along," you say. "You just made her believe it came from you. What she needed were words of encouragement."
"Which is what I gave her." Ray shrugs, her arms wide. The motion looks as exaggerated as it does practiced. "Sure, I took some coin for it. But in all fairness, Miss Aria, would you truly believe a blessing given away for free?"
"I can't claim to understand faith, because I do not worship the gods the way the people of Olympia do," you say, shaking your head. "But my grandmother taught me to repay kindness with kindness, and faith with faith. She believed in you, but the god you worship seems to be one of gold."
That does entice a reaction. For a short moment, so minor you know you would have missed it if you didn't look her directly in the eye, she became angry. It's gone in a blink, and she shoves against the table, moving the chair to get off.
"I apologize," Ray says. What she managed to hide on her face is still in her voice. "I made a mistake."
Your hand reaches out faster than your brain. You grab her by the arm, a spark of electricity exploding between you two that causes the inn to quiet down for a moment, everyone turning to you. You wave them off, and the world just returns to normal as you turn to Ray.
"I'm sorry," you say. You don't know what for, really. You just know that the girl is upset, and you can't have that, even if you disagree with her methods. "Whether your blessings are real or not, it's wrong of me to doubt your faith, Ray. Please, stay seated."
She looks at you for a moment, different than before. You find yourself shifting in your chair at the stare, and Sophia, too, seems at a loss for words. After another beat of silence, Ray gives you a nod, and you let go of her arm.
"No, it's more than that," Leif says, shaking his head. "At the same time we had reports of some strange happenings, initially thought unrelated. A magician who appeared in towns where kidnappings happened, a priestess who healed people who got sicker after she left. While we still don't know how they connect, we know that they're all part of one group."
"You've picked a difficult time to come to Olympia," she says, moving on without much of an issue. "A high priest was murdered last night, I'm sure you've heard."
"In passing," Sophia says, nodding. "The… lady at the entrance of the city mentioned it."
"Ah, the whores, yes," Ray says. You purse your lips at the rather strong word. "Don't mind them too much, though they're quite good sources if you need information. It's the oldest profession, they say."
"Who says that?" you ask. She waves you off, continuing without missing a beat.
"So here's the thing, high priest Aggamemnon wasn't the most popular person," she says. What a mouthful of a name. You're fairly certain it's a traditional one, you read the name in a book before. "He was a whoremonger, he gambled with donations to the temple, but he was the de-facto leader of the temple so unless someone from higher up the food chain came to Olympia to get rid of him, we were all stuck with him."
"Sounds like a lot of people could have a motive then," Sophia says. She's back to normal now, though still slightly miffed.
"For sure, but we do have one suspect." Ray grabs a scroll from her bag, rolling it out on the table. There's a drawing of an older woman, beautiful in a way that you cannot put into words. "The Matron, Debora, was the last person seen in his chambers. Since the murder, she's been missing."
"That doesn't mean she did it," you say, frowning. "That just means she's missing."
"Well, that's for the temple to decide if they catch her," Ray says, smiling as she rolls up the scroll again. "And you seem like two capable young women, so I've got a proposal. The bounty on catching her is quite high, easily enough to keep trailblazers like you going for half a year. I propose fifty-fifty."
So only three months, but— "We're two," you say, "and you're one."
"Yes, but!" She raises a finger. "I know the city better than anyone, and you don't."
That's fair, you think. "Fine, I'm not in the mood to negotiate. Why us?"
"That doesn't mean she did it," you say, frowning. "That just means she's missing."
"Well, that's for the temple to decide if they catch her," Ray says, smiling as she rolls up the scroll again.
"Because you don't know the city at all," she says, clapping her hands together. "And nobody in the city knows you. So if you ask the prostitutes some questions, nobody will be suspicious."
You ignore the girl's emphasis on the word she is now using because you clearly didn't like the other one. Of course they won't sell out their matron, and not to a priestess. Even if she decided to disguise herself, her appearance is far too young.
Before you can make a decision, you hear a shout outside. A woman screams, and though many in the inn look armed and capable, nobody moves to help. You hear the whispers, you hear the disdain.
It must just be some whore, no need to worry.
You do worry. You grab your sword when you see that not even the guards that are taking a break move out. The door to the tavern slams open, your sword drawn, white steel reflecting the lantern lights which have gone up while you were inside.
It's a woman, dressed much too light for the weather, crying over someone. You sheath your sword and approach, your hand on her shoulder. She reacts strongly, turning around with a small knife in hand, shaking as she points it at you.
"D-don't come any closer!" she warns. You raise your hands. "I'll kill you if you do!"
"Your friend is injured," you say, slowly reaching into your pockets. You do have some potions from your shopping trip in Wallburg. Not many, but certainly enough to help a bleeding woman. "Let me help."
She does not look like she wants to accept it, but she has no other choice. She lowers the blade, still holding onto it as you approach again. The woman on the ground must be a coworker, her head is bleeding strongly. There's blood on a wall nearby, you see. Someone must've slammed her head against it. Sophia and Ray join you outside, watching as you apply the potion to the woman's wound.
"That's just first aid," you say. "She'll need to see someone with medical experience, or at least a warmer place to rest."
The knife-wielding woman nods. You bend down, lifting the injured woman up. "Where to?"
"Follow me." She finally sheaths her own knife. Sophia wants to follow, but Ray holds her back. Well, you might not have agreed to anything yet, but it seems your habits are going to get you involved regardless.
Maybe it was time to pray.
Repay kindness with kindness.
You don't truly believe the matron killed the high priest. Perhaps that is your own bias, but at this point in time the truth is that if you find her before anyone else, you can keep her safe. While Ray is interested in the bounty, you know she can be reasoned with.
And if she can't, well, what's she gonna do? She's practically half your size!
Regardless, you are now in a race against time. The other prostitutes claim they don't know where she is. So—
[ ] —you investigate the temple.
There is no way there isn't any evidence. The temple likely didn't want to find any and just blame the next best person.
[ ] —you investigate the brothel.
Just because they say they don't know doesn't mean they are truly unaware of their matron's location.
[ ] —you investigate the guards.
They're not the temple's people. These are the emperor's men, and if anyone knows about the situation in the city, they do.