@wispedheart "Halt! Who goes there?"
"Gizmo."
Elan "Gizmo" Buckley stepped out of the darkness of the forest, her hands up in a playfully surrendering fashion. The campfire in the center of the three circled wagons illuminated her grin.
Hugh Dwyer lowered the wheellock rifle. Tossed it to Elan.
"Oh thank fucking Ansgar," Hugh said, already undoing his belt as he hurried past Elan and away from the light of the camp. "I gotta piss so fucking bad."
"Careful not to get any on your hands."
Hugh's voice from the darkness. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. That was one time, Giz. Cut me some sla...aaahhh, that's better..."
Elan chuckled and sat down by the campfire. Close enough for the warmth to stave off the chill of the night, at least for one side of her body.
Elan and Hugh had the last shift of fireguard. The other ten men in the small detachment of the Sentinel mercenary company were all asleep, some in bedrolls on the ground, others in the wagons. Friends and brothers in this new life Elan had found for herself.
The satchel beside Elan beckoned her curiosity once more. She looked down at it. Opened it up. Set down the rifle and took out the book from inside the satchel and looked at it again. How could this be worth so much? The contact, Zacharias, paid the Sentinels quite the sum of money to retrieve it. Funny enough, the thing wasn't even guarded like Zacharias thought. It was almost anticlimatic to delve into some large ruins in the underground of the Sionad Tundra and just pick up the book and leave. But money was money. And money was also ale. And ale meant good times.
Hugh came back and sat down by the fire next to Elan. He glanced down at the book in her hands. Arched his head back. "We're takin' bets on what's in that book, me and some of the other guys. Those chumps say it's probably some magic spells or some shit. Not me."
"What do you think?" Elan said.
"You first, Giz."
"Alright. I suppose it might be tales and legends from a bygone time."
"I dunno. That Zacharias fellow probably wouldn't have paid us that much for some stories."
"Directions, then. Oh! Or instructions on how to construct a map to something...I don't know, something important."
He nodded a few times. "Yeah...yeah, I could see that."
"What's yours, Hugh?"
"I bet it's smut."
Elan grinned and shoved his shoulder. "Shut up!"
"Smut. One hundred percent. You'll see."
"You just said that you didn't think Zacharias would pay so much for stories."
"Yeah, but you had the wrong kind of stories in mind. I knew a guy once—rich noble type—who collected nothing but smutty artwork. Paid fortunes for good ones."
Elan laughed. "No, no, no. Shut up. There's no way."
Hugh shrugged, but couldn't hide his own grin. "I'm just sayin'. Once somebody knows what they want, they're gonna go for it. Whatever it takes."
"Sure, sure." Elan glanced back down at the cover of the book. A dark, greenish blue. Written in strange characters. "What language did Sango say this was?"
"Ancient Yoreiqi. And don't ask me how he knew that 'cause he didn't say. Guess the Captain's been around."
"I'll say."
The fire crackled. Danced. And dawn approached.
* * * * *
Captain Jakrii "Sango" Sangsorn rode in the lead wagon, the reins in his hands. The evergreen trees of the Niahi Woods passed by slowly. The sunlight of the clear afternoon filtered down through the forest.
Elan Buckley sat next to him in the driver's seat. Whittling, as she usually did on these long wagon rides. Her tongue occasionally poking out of her mouth as her knife peeled a particularly difficult curve or angle in the wood.
Sango glanced over. She was talented, no doubt about that. Could stand to work on her marksmanship some more, sure, but that wasn't what she brought to the table for the Sentinels. You needed your gun tuned? You talked to Elan. You needed your armor fixed? You talked to Elan. Injury? Talk to Elan. The woman had a mind for tradecrafts. She already knew gunsmithing, and it didn't take her long at all to become proficient in blacksmithing, leatherworking, and first aid. She made a hell of an armorer and quartermaster.
Some women joined merc companies like the Sentinels because the Connlaothian military wouldn't take them, unless they had a form of Mordecaism. A smaller and newer company, Sango's Sentinels numbered a close-knit thirty-three in total, two of which—Elan included—were women. Christine, the other woman, joined for all the same reasons that most of the men did: a sense of adventure, brotherhood, thrill of combat, and what have you. Elan, on the other hand, seemed to have something else in mind. She certainly seemed to enjoy the companionship of the Sentinels and contributing to the team, but Sango suspected that there was something else. The woman had a mind for crafting and creating, and, while she learned the trades quickly enough, blacksmithing and leatherworking and gunsmithing just didn't seem to cut it.
Elan had a drive, a yearning for something unattained. Sango could sense that much about her. Problem was, like a few of the men, vice got in the way. And Elan? Hers was drinking. Sango enjoyed a good beer himself from time to time, but there needed to be a balance. It didn't affect her work. Not yet. But Sango knew that was where the path of the drunkard began. He'd seen it happen one too many times during his service in the Connlaothian military.
And he'd rather not see it happen again.
* * * * *
A small clearing in the forest, and there, just down the slope of the gentle hill the wagons were on, was the port town of Bluesails, one of the larger port towns in the Niahi Woods area of Le'raana. The pristine waters of the Tuor Ocean rolled in and out of the flat shoreline. Three large ships had just left port, and were sailing away to the Yoreiq Isles or perhaps to parts lesser known.
The Sentinel convoy continued down the road and across the clearing and into town. To Sango, Bluesails was like a little Reajh. A fraction of the population, but unquestionably better scenery. The evergreens of Niahi to the east, the beautiful beach and waters of the Tuor to the west, and a mix of Connlaothian and Seren architecture in the town proper. Shame he wasn't born here, but he wouldn't hesitate to retire here when the time came.
The wagons came to a stop on the streets of Bluesails, shops and fish markets around them. The locals paid them no mind. Travelers and adventurers were commonplace in such a busy town.
Sango jumped down from the wagon, as did Elan and the rest of the men. They gathered around.
"Ramon, take care of the stabling of the horses and parking of the wagons," Sango said.
"You got it, Captain."
"Legotti, find us an inn with enough vacancy, will you? A good one, this time."
"Yeah, Legotti," Hugh said. "For fuck's sake, I got enough back problems."
"That's funny," Legotti said. "Your wife said somethin' similar."
Most of the men laughed.
"Alright, lock it up, gents," Sango said. "Millor, I need you to check in with the port authority. See where Zacharias' ship'll be arriving tomorrow."
"Understood, Captain."
"Well then, as for the rest of you, you're dismissed until tomorrow. If you get lost or don't know which shitty inn Legotti found for us, just find Ramon at the northern stables. I'll coordinate with him. Now, enjoy your time in beautiful Bluesails, gents."
And as the men began to disperse, Sango kept an eye on Elan. Watched her go.
* * * * *
Elan smiled when she saw it. A tavern, named
The Tap, built right next to a brewery. They were practically the same building. Talk about fresh.
She and Hugh and a couple of the men went in. Had the place mostly to themselves, thanks to all the ships leaving port earlier. Got a nice table by one of the windows. And they were three rounds of ale in when Captain Sangsorn found them.
Elan raised her mug as Sango approached, a sloppy grin on her face. She had an arm around Hugh's shoulders, leaning into him, her hat askew on her head.
"'Ey, everybody, give it up for ol' Sango!" Elan said. "Isn't he a jolly good fellow?"
"'Ey, Captain!" said Hugh and the other two Sentinels.
Sango smiled. A mere motion of his mouth. "Causing trouble again, Elan?"
"Me? Oh no, not me, Captain," Elan said as her mug tilted slightly in her hand and some ale splashed down on the floor. "Oops."
Sango eyed the men. "Give us some space. I'd like to talk to Elan alone, please."
Hugh nodded. Glanced at the two other men. "Alright, Sango. Table's yours then. Let's head up to the bar, boys."
Hugh and the two men did just that, and Sango sat down at the table across from Elan. Folded his arms. She smiled at him. Wondered through the haze of her buzz what this was about.
"So," he said. "Here you are again."
Elan giggled. Reached out and touched one of Sango's arms. "I've only just found this place. Lovely, isn't it? The brewery next door is a nice touch. The ale is excellent, you really ought to—"
"That's not what I meant."
"Oh?"
Sango looked at her mug. "How much have you had?'
"A bit. I'm just getting started, really." And then she added in a sing-song voice, "Just a little buzzy buzz."
"You don't have to do this. What would he think if he knew what you've been doing?"
Elan's smile faded some. She knew who Sango was talking about.
Alan. Her brother. Rest his soul.
Sango looked down for a moment. Back up. "Do you know how many times that I, or Hugh, or Ramon, or Christine, or one of the other men had to carry you out of a tavern because you were blackout drunk?"
"Once or twice, I'm sure. Sometimes I drink a little extra." A sheepish grin. "Sorry. About that."
Sango shook his head. "No. Not once or twice. Frankly, Elan, I don't have enough fingers to count the number of times anymore."
"Oh...that's...rather dreadful."
"You could say that. Or you could do something about it." Sango leaned forward in his seat some. "Listen, I know what you're going through. The kind of life you've led. I was a slave too."
Elan's eyes narrow. Quizzical. "You...?"
"Yes," Sango said. "For thirteen years. But, fortunately, I was able to buy my freedom. And I was lost for a long while too before I enlisted in the military. There's a certain burden that comes with freedom. A responsibility for yourself. And you can either take ownership of your life, or you can become a slave again to the whims of fate, and just allow whatever may come to rule over you." A pause. Then he stood. "Just think about that, will you?"
And Sango left the tavern.
Elan thought for a while.
Looked at the mug.
Alan. She reached out her hand.
Touched the handle.
Are you watching me?