the 6th of Marrivent, year 957 of the Silver Age
The sun was setting over the Duchy of Guyse as the grape harvest festival drew to a close. The white stone buildings were bathed in a golden light, the air still heavy with the scent of spices and wine. Asja had spent the last few days playing and singing with her troupe, and despite her weariness, they had to leave the next day. Seated outside the inn where they were staying, basking in the last rays of sunlight under an ivy-covered pergola, she was tallying their earnings and expenses. Soldiers passed by the establishment and stared at her. Perhaps it was because her dark complexion set her apart from the northern inhabitants of the kingdom, or perhaps her beauty made her stand out from the crowd despite her best efforts to blend in. Beside her, the leader of their troupe, Ariana, glared at them. Yet she would have been powerless to stop them. She was old and skeletal, and although she was skilled in lithomancy, she could not have used her powers openly.
A gust of wind swept across the terrace, and Ariana gritted her teeth as she unfolded her map on the table. Asja turned to her, smiling at the sight of the old woman so focused; no path in the kingdom seemed unfamiliar to her. Asja broke off her thoughts.
“We have enough to buy food to get to Ronia, and enough to pay for a hostel for four days there. Then, if we continue north for the Fomori celebrations…
- No, Ariana interrupted immediately, we’ll go to Loumnis after just one evening in Ronia, and we won’t go near the Fomori lands.” Asja looked at her questioningly and continued, “I’ve heard reports of tension at the border. The barbarians and the Duke’s men are fighting over an iron mine…
- As if the guards didn't have enough to deal with all the bandits...
- As if they’d ever done anything to defend us against them,” Ariana sighed. She looked up and straightened her posture. “It seems that Johan has found our mercenaries.”
Asja followed his gaze to see one of their companions arrive with a stranger at his heels. His back slightly hunched, as if to conceal his height, the mercenary strode forward, his scarf partially hiding his long blond hair. She watched his gaze sweep over each person gathered beneath the pergola. The lower part of his face was hidden by a grizzled beard, but the marks of years and battles remained visible. The young woman saw in him an old gray wolf, who had lost his youth but was still just as dangerous. The mercenary glanced back at his pack. Two young people, a woman and a man who bore a striking resemblance, sat down nearby under the pergola.
“You’re looking for mercenaries to go up to Ronia, is that right?”
The man spoke in a deep voice. Ariana thanked Johan with a nod, then, without answering the mercenary, she began to question him about their prices and skills. Taking advantage of the stranger's attention being on his mentor, Asja observed the young mercenaries for a while. They were broad-shouldered and muscular, but rather short compared to their leader. Asja also wondered if they were from Xion, as they were both dark-haired with fair complexions, though tanned by the sun. They also had dark, almond-shaped eyes. The young woman hailed a waiter and, with a broad smile, struck up a conversation with him. The man wore a headscarf like their leader and remained impassive beside her. Imitating their leader, the young mercenary's eyes swept over the crowd and met Asja's gaze. He studied her for a few moments before moving on to the group behind her. Beside him, the woman laughed and patted the waiter on the back before he left. Like their leader, they wore leather breastplates; the two men had shirts underneath, but the woman had bare arms despite the coolness of this autumn evening and, unusually for Aénor, she wore trousers like the two men.
“We have already protected minstrels, notably the Yellow Bear troupe this summer, but we have also worked with many civilians, like One-Eyed and her companions…”
Asja looked up at the man when she heard him; Ariana seemed taken aback. Facing him, the mercenary smiled into his beard. After a moment of silence, the old woman said:
“Why mention a paravès, accused of witchcraft no less, as a reference for your legitimacy?
- Because if this bothers you, I don't think we should work together…"
The mercenary's smile was wider, but it had lost all friendliness. He stared at Arianna, sizing her up. Asja realized then that the mercenary wasn't human. She could see his ears despite the scarf; he wasn't an elf. He could be a paravès who had concealed his feathers with magic. But, given the scarf he wore, he was more likely a Fomori. The mercenary noticed Asja staring at him. He looked her over in return, as if he too was trying to determine her nature. Ariana saw this and spoke again, redirecting the man's attention to her.
“No, that’s not a problem. Will your daily prices be the same from Ronia to Loumnis?”
- We cannot guarantee your protection until Loumnis. But marrivent is almost over, and with it, autumn. We will spend the winter at home, and Loumnis would be too far away.
- I'm guessing this applies for both you and your two colleagues, Ariana sighed.
- More than colleagues, they’re my children. And you can ask them, but I already know the answer. He laughed before adding, We can recommend people to replace us once we’re in Ronia, but convoys regularly travel between the two cities, you could also join them.
There was a moment of silence, then Ariana stood up and reached out her hand towards the man.
“Very well, we will leave tomorrow, when the lauds ring.
- Perfect, we’ll be waiting for you at the north gate of the city.”
The mercenary shook Ariana's hand. He started to turn around, but stopped and said;
“By the way, my name is Luggh.” He gestured with his thumb to the two young people who had stood up at the same time as him. “And these are Tarann and Ela. See you tomorrow.”
The mercenaries walked away, talking amongst themselves, no doubt about their new mission. The sun dipped behind the ramparts and the cold settled in. Asja shivered and began to clear the table. Ariana helped her, and the young woman took the opportunity to say:
“I might be mistaken, but… I believe this man is a Fomori. The way he wore his headscarf was to hide his horns…
- Maybe, but it doesn't change much…
- Yet you taught me that these barbarians placed their honor above their lives. If he promises to protect us, he will not betray us.
- There's little reason why any of them would live in Aénor, Ariana said dully. And if a relation with a human from the Kingdom were one reason, the loss of his honor and his horns would be another.
- And you think the two young people are really his children? The guy seemed to be hiding horns too, but not the woman, and she didn't look like him…"
Ariana looked up at her, a sad smile on her lips. The last rays of sunlight accentuated her wrinkles and Asja felt her stomach clench.
“Sometimes, family ties extend beyond blood ties, Asja.”
The next day, the sky was ablaze with the first rays of dawn when the troupe left the inn. Ariana led the way with their wagon, followed by Johan and Lucina's. The last two members of their troupe, Elis and Tomas, brought up the rear on their horses. The bells rang, their peals drowning out the sound of hooves and wheels, and when they stopped, the city fell silent once more. They passed through the streets, emptied of their inhabitants, and through the city gates. Seated in the back of a wagon among the instruments, Asja watched the changing of the guard on the ramparts; the soldiers seemed agitated. Before she could understand the reason for their anxiety, Ariana called out to her and pointed out the source of their agitation.
“Well, Asja, you were right.”
The mercenaries waited on their mounts on the other side of the moat. Luggh had removed his scarf, and from the chariot, Asja could see his severed horns. He towered over his two children from the back of his enbarr, a taller, stockier mount than horses, long-haired and maneless, used by the Fomori. The two youngsters were mounted on horses; the one presented to them as Tarann still wore his scarf. Their weapons hung from their saddles: a war hammer for their leader, a shield and sword for his son, and a one-handed axe for his daughter; which explained the guards' nervousness.
Ariana stopped their wagon in front of them, and the mercenary leader waved. They exchanged a few words, and the mercenaries took their places around the group. Luggh took the lead, positioning himself close enough to Ariana to continue talking with her. Ela, the young warrior, took her place in the middle of the wagon train. Finally, Tarann let the wagon train pass without a word and followed the last wagon a short distance behind. They passed the outer districts of the city, where the inhabitants were already going to work, and began their journey north.
The day progressed smoothly. Asja cleaned their musical instruments and listened distractedly to Ariana and Luggh's conversation about the border tensions. She moved on to her oud, gently caressing the cedar wood. With her cloth, she carefully cleaned the wood and bone rosettes that adorned it. The strings creaked with the friction. Without realizing it, she began to hum as she worked. Once she had finished, Asja looked up to see Ela staring at her from her horse. She immediately stiffened, and the young woman smiled, seemingly oblivious to the discomfort she had created. Asja cleared her throat and turned her attention back to her oud.
“Do you need something? Why are you looking at me like that?
- I just wanted to watch what you were doing,” Ela replied. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable!”
A sigh escaped Asja's lips. She quickly cleaned the soundbox and neck before tuning it. The sounds of hooves drew closer as the warrior approached her.
“I’ve never seen a lyre like that,” commented Ela.
- Probably because it's an oud…
- Ah, I was wondering... Have you been playing it for a long time?
- For as long as I can remember, I’ve had an instrument in my hands. I was playing it before I could walk.”
Ela let out an admiring whistle. Now that she was close to Asja, the young woman took the opportunity to study her. Her wide smile highlighted a swelling on her cheek, and an old scar ran from the corner of her mouth to her jaw. At the end of this scar, an earring dangled from her left ear. A simple ring that appeared gold, from which hung a stone tarnished by time. A piece of jewelry that contrasted sharply with the small steel earrings she wore just above and on her other ear. The stone particularly intrigued Asja; she had learned to recognize them, and although she couldn't be certain without closer inspection, it seemed to her that it was Cerlug amber. But this stone was rare, priceless, and highly sought after for its powers. It seemed unlikely that a mercenary would wear it so openly.
“I heard you humming earlier, you have a beautiful voice! commented Ela, a silly smile on her lips. I don’t think I heard you during the festival though.”
- Uh, thank you," replied Asja, ignoring her second comment.
- And you know how to play the oud too! You're very talented! You must be very skillful with your fingers!
A man's deep, tired voice came from behind the warrior. She turned to her brother, who was staring at her in exasperation.
“You can see that she’s not interested,” he continued.
- What are you doing here, Tarann? Smiled Ela. Aren't you supposed to be watching our backs?
- If you stopped flirting for five minutes you’d see that Dad signaled us to come over.”
Ela swore before spurring her horse. Her brother sighed, then turned to Asja.
“Excuse her, she didn’t mean to bother you, she just has trouble reading people, don’t hesitate to be direct…”
- I’ll remember that, she caught me off guard,” Asja admitted. “I’m used to that kind of comment, but not from a woman.”
Tarann laughed, a small, muffled sound, a far cry from his sister's thunderous laughter that had filled the pergola the day before. Then, after a nod of goodbye, he went to his father's side. The family chatted for a few minutes, laughing together before Ela left to scout. Asja turned her attention back to her oud, her heart heavy. The instrument had been her mother's first gift to her father, long before she was born. It was all she had left of them. Their lives, their possessions, and their bodies had been taken by the guards, leaving Asja alone. Seeing the mercenary family reopened wounds she thought she had healed years ago.
