Fight or Flight - NaNoWriMo2019 11/13

“Um. Not sure how useful I would be in all of this.” Annice said, hoping her elvish features were clear enough to not need explanation. Mareen looked Annice over, rubbing her jaw in contemplation.

“Your Half-Elf, yes?” She asked.

“Yes, I am.” Annice said. She just accepted this job and now she was going to be unable to join Wilhelm because of some Humans with a grudge against non-humans? She was not pleased.

“Far as anyone else is concerned from this point on you are a full blooded Elf, you understand?” Mareen placed her hand atop the desk and leaned forward.

“Oh, uh, yes!” Annice agreed, slightly confused though.

“Like I mentioned, they do have some non-human members. The Supremacy get’s legitimacy from the very races they’re speaking against and the non-humans get protection from the Supremacy’s violent actions… For a while at least. I imagine if Wilhelm the Unyielding came to them accompanied by an elven woman who bought into what they were saying, they would feign acceptance of you. You’re also a Cleric, they wouldn’t be able to resist having a Goddess speak to their filth. A Goddess of peace no less.” Mareen was nodding, having convinced herself more than anyone else. Annice just scowled.

“I will not profane Syrene’s name for these monsters.” She stated bluntly.

“I’m not going to ask you to do that. Give them no commitments, just let them believe that you are compliant. I’m not one to court the scorn of the gods on me.” Mareen grinned.

“Right cause yer like half-angel or whatever.” Wilhelm said, to both women’s annoyance.

“She’s not an angel?” Annice said, turning a confused gaze to Wilhelm. “She’s an Aasimar. She’s been touched by the Celestial realm.” It was obvious to Annice from the moment she saw the woman the previous night.

“Same difference.” Wilhelm turned to Annice, shrugging.

“It’s really not-“ Annice began, becoming visibly upset, but Mareen interrupted her.

“It’s quite alright, Cleric Qileth, I’ve been down this path with Wilhelm many times. He doesn’t mind himself with the ways of the Gods. Or much anything else outside of fighting and drinking awful swill calling itself ale.” She gazed down at Wilhelm with a weary expression, but there was a hint of playfulness in her eyes.

“Slander!” Wilhelm called out. “I drink the very finest swill!” He smiled.

Mareen rolled her eyes and shook her head, Annice was mostly perplexed, but did crack a smile. The oppressive weight of the conversation had been lifted, and levity came to the room. Wilhelm sat up and leaned forward, ready to be serious again.

“Alright, Mareen, walk me through it.” He stated.

“You two will head out before last light, the sooner the better. I want you well on your way before you need to make camp. You’ll be traveling to the village of Boughborn, it’s about a six days journey, do your best to make it there in four. Once you’re there you will seek out a man named Rikkard Spear, one of the few public members of the Supremacy. Far as I can gather, he’s a high ranking member and a talented recruiter. Ingratiate yourself with this man, use your celebrity to sell the idea you can be the face of the movement. They’ll be having a gathering somewhere outside of the village, I can’t tell you where. It’s going to be big, they’ll soon be pushing themselves to greater public visibility in preparation for their final phase.” Mareen pulled an object from the top drawer of her desk, it looked like a featherless quill in a glass vial, she slid it to Wilhelm. “This is a Mimic Fang, it has the ability to duplicate any magic item it touches. At this gathering they will certainly reveal the scroll to you, use this to sign your name to it and then find any reason to get out. Once the Fang has made contact with the scroll you will only have one hour to speak the Power Word or the Fang will lose the ability to change. Once you do, the fang will transform, permanently, into an exact replica of the scroll. Names and all. Get me that scroll.”

“Right, yeah, sounds easy.” Wilhelm said, deadpan. “Not exactly the one for the ‘clandestine’ work Mareen, you know this. I’m more the, you know, hittin things with a hammer type.”

“Wilhelm, in this realm there are only two people I trust, truly trust, and you and I both know that one of those people is dead. You’re the other.” She stated, sadness in her voice.

“Mm” Wilhelm looked to the ground, nodded, and stood up. He took the Mimic Fang and pocketed it as he did. “We’ll start in on supplies immediately, Mareen. I’ll get it done. Delicate as we can.”

“If you need to get sloppy so be it, just get me that scroll.” Mareena stood and walked around the table. Annice tilted her head as they both reached out and grasped each other in a hand shake in that peculiar way Adventurers tended to, taking each other by the wrist, but that was quickly abandoned as they pulled each other into an embrace. It was held for a long moment, and the two finally parted. Mareen cleared her throat, and pulled back to a formal stance.

“Thank you Wilhelm, I’ll have the porter get you a stipend for your supplies, anything you need. The reward, since you never asked, is five hundred gold.” Mareen began writing up the contracts, Annice just sat mouth agape at the reward. She managed to close her mouth before Mareen glanced up. “Oh and of course, thank you as well Cleric Qileth. I’m sure this isn’t exactly what you had in mind when you signed in with Wilhelm. Keep him safe, he might be a bone head but he really is one of the good ones.”

“Oh of course, yes. I’ll” Annice cleared her throat before continuing. “Protect him.”

Mareen had both Wilhelm and Annice sign the contract, folded the parchment at four corners and then in on itself in two halves, before finally pouring melted wax on it. Mareen pressed her seal, a hand clutching a vibrant spear blade, into it and offered the wax to Wilhellm and Annice. Wilhelm twisted a ring off his pinky and pressed it into the wax, leaving a blunted hammer sigil next to Mareen’s. Annice didn’t have anything, but lifted her holy symbol up, pressing that into the wax. A few words of goodbye were given and the two exited the room.

Back into the sun and the streets, the light waning now past the noon hour, Wilhelm and Annice didn’t speak about their encounter. Annice tried to, but Wilhelm stopped her with a gestured palm, and moved on to supplies. Annice wasn’t exactly pleased to be silenced in that manner, but followed behind none the less. The two sought out food first, purchasing dries fruits and jerked meats to last two people eight days. Second the two sought out basic camping supplies, two tents, flint and steel, and about a dozen treated quick light torches. Next they were off to the Smith.

“Wilhelm no!” Annice protested.

“Come on Annice, you need somthin!” Wilhelm stated, a short sword in his hand in offering to the woman.

“I said no!” She glowered at him. “I said I would be your healer, I never agreed to swing a weapon at anyone!”

“Look we’re going to be facin down some pretty nasty men.” Wilhelm insisted. “And I don’t like the idea of walkin in with you unarmed! I get it, I do, but come on Syrene got something against you defending yourself?”

“No.” Annice admitted. “Syrene is the Goddess of Peace, but the act of defence of one self or in the name of another who would be harmed, is of course allowed… encouraged! But we generally prefer de-escalation.”

“These sound like folk that can be reasoned with, do they?” Wilhelm asked.

“No.” Annice admitted. “I suppose not.” She sighed, he was right. She didn’t like the idea of it, a people who were so completely the antithesis of what she believed. Syrene taught of harmony and symbiosis not just between the Primal Five races, but all of the races. She knew that there could be strife, hatred, and bigotry but what Mareen described was… all of that, and so much more potent. “Nothing bladed, Wilhelm.” She relented.

“That’s fine, I ain’t lookin to make you uncomfortable, I swear it. Just want to make sure that if we ever get into something nasty, you got something at least to swing when your magic runs dry.” He smiled and picked out a fairly ornate looking club. It was well caved, with a smooth metal grip wrapped in fine leather. Annice took it and was for a moment disturbed by the weight in her hand, it frightened her. Wilhelm retrieved a sling to hold it to her back, and a rounded shield that was polished to a mirror shine, it Wilhelm’s heater shield, which was thick and wooden, framed in dull iron. Annice hung the shield on her hip.

“Alright now how about some armor.” Wilhelm peered over the selection of plate.

“Wilhelm, please.” Annice pleaded, furrowing her brow. Wilhelm looked forlorned, it was obvious he didn’t like what he was putting her through. He nodded.

“A chain shirt and some greaves?” He reasoned. Annice nodded, and he picked out a set of silvered bracers that matched her new shield.

“You’re spending a lot of Mareen’s money on me.” Annice stated from a private booth in the back of the Blacksmith’s shop. Her silk robes hung on a hook in the booth, and she was pulling the chain shirt over her underclothes.

“Naw, I blew through that stipend by the time we was getting our camping supplies. This is my own funds.” Wilhelm stated, leaning against a wall outside of the booth.

“What?!” Annice cried out, pushing the booth door open a crack to peek her head out. “What do you mean your funds? You will let me pay you back for all of this!” Wilhelm looked to the woman, then quickly away as he noted she was not finished dressing.

“Look Annice, I know this all makes you uncomfortable. I know it goes against what you been taught, and I ain’t about to tell you what you been taught was wrong cause it ain’t. Peace might be the most damned noble thing a person could strive for. But it ain’t what most folk gonna give you out in the world. We won’t be in Sapphire Cove by evenin, won’t be in the ‘Jewel of the Enclave.’ It’s a harsh world out there, least I could do is pay with my own money for askin you to go along with it.”

“I’m not a child, Wilhelm.” Annice said, pulling back into the booth and closing the door.” I know that the world outside of Syrene’s temple can be…” She paused to seek the word. “Flawed.” It wasn’t the right word, but it would do. She began to pull the robes over the chainmail. “I can and do accept that.” She pushed open the door, offering an arm to Wilhelm, seeking assistance with the straps for the bracers. He was diligent to do them up for her. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Annice stepped out of the booth and inspected a nearby mirror. It was strange, it felt so different, but there she was in the mirror, same as always. She could spy the the chain shirt peeking out from the collar of her robes, the hilt of the club and the strap of the sling across her chest, and the shield strapped to her hip. She noted how the bracers kept her sleeves from draping over the back of her palms, and how the metal glinted in the mirror. Other than that though, same silken white robes of a Syrene Faithful, same Annice Qileth, Cleric to the Goddess of Peace.