Amdirlain’s PoV - Veht? - La?ki

  Zivena was collecting her things when Marcin and Amdirlain arrived back at reception. The counters were now half-filled with staff verifying the work of the returning adventurers. They exchanged bags of herbs and monster parts for coins, updating their job status before moving on to the next group.

  “Your shift ended, Zivena. Why are you still here?”

  “I’m just leaving, Guild Master,” Zivena replied. “Are you sure you don’t want me to help with the rush?”

  “The others will be here soon. Though, do you have time to introduce Jay to someone who takes boarders?” Marcin asked.

  “Not an inn?” Zivena questioned curiously. “Are you sure?”

  “I’ll be in town a while, so I’d prefer to give my coin to a family that needs it.”

  She looked between Amdirlain and Marcin before offering a professional smile. “Why don’t we talk about hosting families while we walk?”

  Amdirlain hopped over the counter and waited by the door for Zivena to catch up.

  “This is a very unusual request from an Elf,” Zivena said, once they were clear of the guild’s front door. Along the streets, various shops were closing their shutters as the last customer of the day left.

  Wandering around the guild complex took a little while.

  “I’m sure it is, but I’d prefer to help someone who wouldn’t be getting regular coin.”

  Zivena nibbled at her bottom lip. “There are always families needing coin, but those most in need aren’t in areas you want to go near.”

  “Like the ghettos around the old temples west of the river?”

  “Didn’t you say you’re new to La?ki?” Zivena asked.

  “I am, but that doesn’t mean I can’t hear things about it in advance.”

  “The ghettos of a Human town aren’t something I would expect to be talked about among elves,” Zivena said. “Those who have come through have never spoken of them in the past.”

  “Or maybe it’s something you’d prefer remain undiscussed,” Amdirlain offered. “Why did no one cleanse or repurpose the abandoned temples as was done in other towns?”

  Zivena looked away. “It was once a multi-temple complex, but the problem lies in Dazhbog’s. Legends say Apollo killed him there, and his fury spread into the other temples as they died. It’s not as bad as some places where deities perished, but it’s our own scar from the ancient Gods’ War.”

  It seems I filtered out too much noise.

  “I’ve been in far worse places,” Amdirlain replied. “If that’s one of the unwanted jobs—”

  “For Gold rank and above,” Zivena cut her off. “People far above your level have tried.”

  “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Marcin would have my job if I put you with someone in that area. They all have ties to the local underground, out of desperation if not a genuine desire to steal.”

  “Then lead on to somewhere suitable,” Amdirlain motioned ahead of them.

  “There is a family whose father works with the guard. I know they’re seeking lodgers as their eldest son recently started adventuring.”

  “A guard might be useful to know. He could tell me about the parts of the town best avoided,” Amdirlain noted.

  Zivena relaxed.

  The other places are someone else’s problem, but Apollo was rotting from the inside with the yin energy I fed him. Weakened, he went after Dazhbog and the other sun gods. I should clean that mess up.

  Zivena led her towards the river, where fortified gates secured each end of the three heavy stone bridges. On the west side of the city, the architecture differed from what she’d seen so far. Rather than sunken ground floors, Roman-style townhouses were mixed in with apartment blocks. Most of those on the streets wore rough cloth and leather sandals.

  Did Romans help build the original town?

  “They’re on the upper floor, where the rent is cheaper,” Zivena murmured as they slipped through the crowded streets.

  The building Zivena turned into reminded Amdirlain of an archaeology drawing of a Roman apartment block she’d seen in a book on ancient Rome. Called Insula, or islands, shops occupied the ground while a central core of steps led to the upper floors. Near the stairs was a fountain with a large basin, where people drew water into large urns and lifted them to the upper floors using pulleys. Although the building was constructed of timber and brick, none of the apartments had fireplaces.

  With Zivena heading for the stairs, Amdirlain followed along, drawing stares from the residents going about their evening routine. Amdirlain spotted two pre-teenage boys ahead carrying a pot between them, their melodies related to a family on the top floor. There was a brief burst of noise as they entered the apartment closest to the steps.

  The top balcony had seen better days; wear had thinned the tiles set atop the balcony timber frame. Whitewash covered the railing and timber slats were spaced out along the balcony to prevent anyone or anything from tumbling into the shaft. Zivena stepped towards the door the boys had entered, and even she could hear the meal preparations within, plates, mugs, and utensils clattering on hardwood surfaces.

  “I should have taken you to eat first,” Zivena still knocked confidently.

  A grey-haired woman opened the door. Behind her, three girls ranging from fifteen to eight were passing items for the trestle table between them, while the boys had offloaded the pot onto a nearby side table. Cloth drapes and thin wooden walls divided the apartment's interior into nominal rooms. In the main room ahead, two benches flanked a wooden trestle table, with a chair positioned at each end. To Amdirlain’s right was an open pantry storage space for water urns and non-perishable foodstuffs, such as jerky and pickled vegetables. Their father emerged from a niche at the back of the apartment, with dust residue still around his throat, but his face and hands clean. His five o’clock shadow and dark locks were heavily speckled iron grey.

  Zivena smiled at the woman who opened the door. “Vida, are you still open to taking a lodger?”

  “We’ve not found anyone,” Vida replied; her deep brown eyes flicked past Zivena to take in Amdirlain. “An Elf wishes to board with us? I expected at most a guild trainee clerk when I had Miloh mention it to you, Zivena.”

  “If you’re open to the coin, I would shelter with your family,” Amdirlain replied softly. “Please call me Jay. My apologies for disturbing your family’s dinner. Should I return another time?”

  “Yes, we’d take you in,” Vida blinked. “There is no need to leave. Why don’t you join us for dinner?”

  “Might I gift some fresh fruit and other items to add to the meal?” Amdirlain asked. “I’m unsure of Human customs; meals in elven communities are communal, where all contribute.”

  “That would be welcome. We’ve got a stew tonight.”

  “I won’t stay; mother will wonder where I am,” Zivena responded. Giving Amdirlain a polite smile, she slipped away down the stairs.

  Vida looked up at Amdirlain and nervously wiped suddenly sweaty palms on the side of her worn blue dress. Hesitantly, she stepped back and beckoned Amdirlain inside. “Please come in. I’m not knowledgeable about elven customs.”

  “Whatever is customary among your people is fine. I appreciate your hospitality.” Amdirlain replied.

  The lady motioned to her husband and then the girls, who stood wide-eyed at the table.

  “My husband is Dobromir. The girls are Roksana, Neda, and Zlota, and the boys are Radomir and Mieszko; their older brother, Miloh, is off adventuring.”

  Dobromir approached, and Amdirlain clasped his tentatively raised hand. “I’ve seen elves pass through the gates over the years, and none of them seem the type to seek anything but the finest of inns.”

  “Nor clasp a guard’s arm?”

  “No,” Dobromir chuckled. “I wondered how far your acceptance of Human customs would stretch.”

  “I know how to read people well enough to tell genuine politeness,” Amdirlain said. “You’ve got a fine family.”

  “I hope you still feel that way after a day with us,” Vida said. “The children can be boisterous.”

  “Hopefully, my odd elven ways won’t make anyone uncomfortable,” Amdirlain said, and patted Vida’s shoulder reassuringly. “I’ve endured noisy beasts disturbing my rest, so I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  “We’ll put the extra palette in Roksana’s room,” Vida said. “The girls can shift back into one room so that you can have the room to yourself. Is a silver coin a day agreeable?”

  The eldest girl’s shoulders sagged.

  “I don’t need a bed, just somewhere to sit each night to meditate,” Amdirlain interjected. “I can rest perched on a tree branch and not fall off.”

  The parents exchanged glances, but Dobromir finally shrugged. “If you only want a safe spot to sit at night, then does a silver a week sound fair?”

  “Let’s keep it at a silver a day, and I’ll organise breakfast on the days I’m here.”

  “If you’re sure,” Vida murmured gratefully.

  Amdirlain set a stack of eleven large silver coins in her hand. “I’ll keep ten days ahead. Let me know if providing it in small coins would be easier for you.”

  “I meant small silvers,” Vida protested.

  Amdirlain shook her head. “I couldn’t accept such a minimal price. Please, you’re doing me a favour with no notice. I don’t like the barrack-type rooms at inns where strangers are always coming and going. You can never get to know anyone, and innkeepers charge at least a few large silver coins for a private room. Part of my reason for travelling is to learn about people in these Human lands.”

  The children finished sorting out the table under their father’s silent direction; curt gestures spoke volumes, and they got everything organised posthaste.

  A basket of oranges appeared in Amdirlain’s hand, and she offered it to the youngest boy, while Vida moved off to store the coins. “Mieszko? Did I pronounce that right?”

  Its sudden appearance had him blinking, but he nodded shyly and took the top one. “You’re Jay?”

  “Right,” Amdirlain confirmed as she set the basket on the table for the others to select their own.

  “Where are your manners?” Dobromir rumbled.

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  “Sorry,” Mieszko mumbled. “Thank you.”

  I’m not giving a lecture about the Fey; that’s a conversation for another time.

  As the family took their spots, Amdirlain slipped into the vacant space on the bench near the boys before Vida could offer her seat.

  “Have you been an adventurer long?” Mieszko asked.

  “A little while, but I’m new to the guild, so I can’t take the high-paying jobs.”

  “Our brother is a Ranger and a Scout, but he’s still new as well,” Roksana explained.

  “Maybe I’ll work with him at some point then,” Amdirlain replied.

  “Why don’t you carry a sword?” Radomir questioned.

  “Hush, Radomir,” Dobromir murmured. “People fight with what makes sense for their classes, not your expectations.”

  Zlota leant forward to snatch up an orange, and Amdirlain added another basket to the table; this one with steaming dark bread rolls.

  “Are you using magic to create the food?” Vida asked, having returned from the couple’s bedroom.

  “There is no Mana involved in creating the food. I have access to dimensional storage that keeps things from decaying. If I put something in it when it’s still hot from an oven, it comes out in the same state.”

  “That’s great,” Zlota breathed. “I wish I knew magic.”

  “I can give you some lessons while I’m here,” Amdirlain offered. “If you’d like, after the evening meal.”

  “We can’t afford that,” Dobromir protested.

  Amdirlain smiled reassuringly. “Then it’s just as well I’m not charging.”

  “But why?”

  “I enjoy giving people opportunities,” Amdirlain replied.

  “You sound like a priestess of Lerina,” Vida noted. “You should be careful.”

  Amdirlain raised an eyebrow. “Why is that?”

  “The local lord doesn’t like them,” Dobromir explained. “They expelled his son from the school they run in Southgate, and he died adventuring within a year.”

  Outside, the shadows were lengthening, coating the streets with a growing darkness, interrupted by the dim light from crystals set in shopfronts and the facades of homes.

  “Why do elves have feline-looking eyes? Are you like the Catfolk?” Zlota asked suddenly.

  “Please pay Zlota no mind,” Vida stammered. “She meant no offence.”

  “A child’s question would never insult me.” Amdirlain touched her upper arm reassuringly. “It’s actually a good question. Which answer would you like — the reason from legends or the belief of the sages?”

  “Which sounds better?”

  “Those from legends have had to time to grow,” Amdirlain laughed. “Sages believe we have feline-looking eyes as it allows elves to see better in the dim light beneath the forest canopy. Though the legends are fancier, our creators likely took that need into account.”

  Which is true.

  Neda played with her food as she whispered. “Are elves really the oldest race?”

  “No,” Amdirlain replied. “The histories taught by the Lady of the Forest make it clear we came after many others.”

  “But elves live a really long time,” Neda persisted.

  “I’m unsure why that means we’re the oldest race. What we might do in a day or a year doesn’t matter, as that day might never come. Living in the now, we should always try to be the best version of ourselves, so in the future we aren’t ashamed of our actions.”

  “It’s impossible to live without regrets,” Dobromir said.

  “Very true, but it’s possible to live a life where you aren’t ashamed of the person you’ve become. Regret stems from things not completely in our control, while shame comes from our decisions.”

  Dobromir nodded. “I see the distinction you’re making.”

  “I don’t get it,” Radomir said, looking to his mother.

  “And I hope you never need to,” Vida said.

  “Don’t coddle him,” Dobromir grumbled. “It won’t help. Always do your best in the moment, son, regardless of your feelings, and you’ll never have cause to be ashamed. Treat people well, stand beside those who are doing the right thing.”

  Neda looked across at Radomir’s confusion and smiled at her father. “I think he needs an example.”

  Dobromir frowned. “If I got stationed—”

  “He doesn’t need a combat example,” Vida interjected sharply. Neda and Zlota snapped their attention to their food, and Vida softened her tone. “He doesn’t know the pressure.”

  “Fine,” Dobromir sighed. “If you are playing with a friend’s toy and it gets broken by accident. That’s a cause for regret. If you threw it into a drain because you were angry with him, you should be ashamed.”

  “It got kicked into the street by the messenger. I didn’t throw it,” Radomir protested.

  “Exactly, you know what regret is,” Dobromir said. “See that you don’t turn into someone filled with shame instead.”

  “I won’t,” Radomir said firmly.

  Dobromir clasped him lightly on the shoulder. “Good lad. Now Jay will be with us a while, so stop asking so many questions on her first night.”

  The children still spoke during the meal, but they kept the conversation between themselves. When the last morsel was clear from the plates, Zlota tried to slip away but Vida fixed her with a stern look.

  “It’s your turn, Zlota,” Vida said.

  With a sigh, Zlota gathered up the closest plates. “Are you really going to give us magic lessons?”

  “After you wash the dishes,” Vida said.

  “Do you know your letters?”

  “Why is that important to magic?” Mieszko asked. “Letters are so boring.”

  “The lord abolished the school the Daughters of Hope ran, but I taught them,” Dobromir said.

  “You’ve done well by them. If you can’t read and write, you’ll get a much weaker magical Class offered in your vision. Since you’ve an education, I can start with Affinity mediation, and if you get a Class early, it will be a variation of Wizard. However, chores first and then lessons.”

  “They just have the dinner cleanup to do,” Vida said.

  With the dishes washed, Zlota bounced back to the table and smiled brightly at Amdirlain. “Will you teach me now?”

  “Not just you,” Neda protested.

  Mieszko had stepped towards the gap in the wall that led to his bedroom, but froze at Neda’s protest. Timidly, he eyed Amdirlain and raised a hand. “I thought it was just for Zlota. May I join?”

  “Anyone who tries will need patience. The Affinity exercises can work quickly or take months, but without an Affinity, you can’t learn magic.”

  I’ll walk them through the process without telepathy. I could experiment with Muse’s Embrace, a light touch from this weakened Avatar.

  The children weren’t the only ones who listened to Amdirlain’s lessons after dinner. With all his children listening intently, Dobromir sat ramrod in his seat.

  “The start of this exercise might seem mundane, but I want you to close your eyes and breathe slowly. I want you to pay attention to the alterations caused by shifting your breathing.”

  “Just breathing?” Zlota asked, her finger twitched against the damp patches on her dress from washing the dishes.

  “There is power in the air we breathe. You’ll die without it, but change it in various ways and it can kill.” Amdirlain lifted a hand, and a tiny zephyr twisted on her palm, lightning crackling around it, and the children’s eyes bulged with excitement. “It can turn a dust cloud into an abrasive blast, deflect arrows, bring distant words to your ears, or vice versa. Breathing is how you interact with the air daily, bringing its power into your body, but like many things, people take the mundane for granted. We need to break your perception of normal.”

  She closed her hand, and the zephyr vanished, drawing excited claps from the children.

  “Sit however makes you comfortable. Once you’re settled, breathe in to a count of four, hold your breath for the same duration and then exhale slowly. Close your eyes and focus on the pattern; let the surrounding noises drift past.”

  “I’ll watch if you don’t mind,” Vida said as she retrieved a worn dress to mend, though to Amdirlain the material was almost too thin to hold a patch.

  “It’s up to you, but I can teach you as well. There are some spells castable by any Affinity that can repair clothing and clean, which would make life simpler,” Amdirlain said. “If you don’t try, you know you won’t succeed.”

  Zlota giggled, covering her mouth as she did. “Mother says that to us.”

  “Some things transcend species.” Amdirlain raised an eyebrow, her gaze challenging. “Are you going to try?”

  “Is it really as useful as you say?” Vida asked.

  “Would you mind if I tended to that dress as a demonstration?”

  At Vida’s nervous nod, Amdirlain released a Spell. A blue light washed across the material, transforming the previous repairs into intact cloth and restoring its faded yellow into a deep orange hue.

  Vida folded it back into her mending bag and joined the others. Soon, all seven of them were breathing slowly and steadily.

  For ten minutes, Amdirlain observed their rhythm, their eyes closed. Mieszko peeked a few times, but with his parents sitting there calmly, he squeezed his eyes shut and kept going.

  “Now, slow your exhalation further until you feel you’ve pushed every puff of air from your lungs. Hold it until you’re fighting the ache to breathe, and then draw in slowly. Feel the air brushing along your throat, your lungs expanding and your body’s relief of having air again.”

  Her voice low and semi-hypnotic, she interwove instructions with prompts to guide their thoughts, allowing them to experience the exchange of energy. An hour in, Amdirlain turned on Muse’s Embrace to brush against them. That gentle touch was enough to tip Roksana and Dobromir over the edge of understanding, and Amdirlain took in their changed themes when the Class visions finished. Mieszko flipped the script and found himself entranced by the biological processes and emerged blinking with the Nature Affinity still far too young to have gained any Class.

  “Life,” Vida murmured next, as the Class Vision enfolded her. The theme of her Class wasn’t a plain Wizard, but incorporated skills she’d picked up throughout her life.

  Do I help others gain the insights they need, or leave it for now?

  Amdirlain heard Muse giggle in her ear, and the others found what they needed. Fire flashed in the back of Zlota’s gaze, while both Neda and Radomir grasped the intended Air Affinity.

  “Gideon said you’d failed your subtlety check, so I wanted to have some fun, not that Muse’s Embrace couldn’t have finished the job. You’ve already inspired so many other changes within these societies, Mother,” Muse purred.

  The Aspect’s presence vanished.

  “Perhaps Lerina heard her name mentioned earlier,” Amdirlain said for effect. “The question is what choice you make from now on.”

  “All of us?!” Vida gasped as she took in the children and Dobromir’s stunned expressions.

  “Some sages have theorised that the ability to work magic runs stronger in some families,” Amdirlain offered.

  The shocked family threw out a gauntlet of questions, which Amdirlain answered calmly, projecting a confident reassurance that settled their nerves. Eventually, they wound down amid the practicalities of planning lessons around their days for the parents.

  As Vida shooed the children to bed, she paused. “Why are you offering so much help?”

  “I like to improve people’s lives. While I can’t help everyone, I’ll stay to help your family, since I was involved in all of you gaining an Affinity.”

  There were others I couldn’t stay to teach.

  As the others settled to sleep, Amdirlain checked on the local lord and traced the time of the emotional wounds left by his son Tomislav’s death. The years that had passed hadn’t lessened the bitter anger that he’d let take root. Curious about the cause, Amdirlain used a few divination songs and traced it to his time at the university. There he’d been kicked across a room after trying to grope an attractive student who had also studied with the monks, and she hadn’t buckled to Tomislav’s threats. His suspension had turned into expulsion after an investigation found the bullying and other incidents he’d hushed up with threats and money. Grimly satisfied with his removal from the school, Amdirlain skipped forward to the point of the son’s death.

  Cramped tunnels and an undetected trap claimed the bodyguard first. Tomislav had thrown contemptuous insults at the team’s scout as he made to retreat. Though the scout warned him he was taking the wrong tunnel, yet Tomislav hurried on, sure in his arrogance. A crack had echoed through the tunnel just before the first baseball-sized rock had bounced off his helm, and a moment before the false sides collapsed on him. Kobolds had spilled from the hidden ambush spots and smashed burning pots of oil across the crossroads, igniting an oily residue on the floor. Faced with a growing swarm of kobolds, a burning tunnel, and an enraged Tomislav screaming curses for the scout’s incompetence, the rest of the team left him to his fate. Though badly wounded in the escape, the rest of the team returned to town alive.

  Never underestimate the little guy when you’re kicking in his front door. A lesson I should keep in mind, even if I plan to sneak around the home of bigger foes.

  Having heard the rage in the lord’s theme, Amdirlain cut off the tracing songs, sure none of the team had survived long. She swept through the republic in search of the melodies she’d heard and found their bodies in shallow graves across different territories. Their cadavers all carried identical breaks and cuts that gouged into bone, placed to miss major vessels in the surrounding flesh. The death blow for all of them was the same weighted strike to the temple, fracturing the skull.

  It seems the lord hired an assassin with OCD.

  Once the family's breathing had deepened, Amdirlain left an illusion and teleported. From outside the complex that hosted the ruins of Dazhbog’s temple, Amdirlain considered the death curse that had set flames flickering within the substance of the stone. Three hundred metres from its epicentre, his death rage boiled and churned across her skin. Though it could not set hooks within her, it added an air of violence to the neighbourhood that had the occupants’ nerves on edge.

  How did Apollo slip the death curse that still lingers here?

  She parted the veil of time to see the brief and fiery conflict between them. While Dazhbog fought alone, Apollo had brought backup; Artemis and two lesser Greek gods hounded Dazhbog’s flanks. A sneering gold-haired Apollo, with his sun-embossed shield, cast divine light into Dazhog’s eyes, keeping the Slavic god’s attention on himself. Patches of skin resembling sunspots and cancerous melanoma marred Apollo’s once-perfect skin, while streaks of white hair had corrupted his blond locks. The gods had both been skilled combatants, though their equipment differed significantly; they kept each other from exploiting the openings left while they gauged their opponents.

  Four versus one and hampered by Apollo blocks, Dazhbog still held his own for a time. Finally, a shield bash sent him sprawling and, before he could rise, Artemis’s arrows sank into his legs, crippling him. With his divine Mantle inactive, he struggled to regain his footing long enough for Apollo’s blade to plunge past his weakened guard and through his heart.

  With his throat undamaged, he spat a death curse that ripped the air around Apollo. The blond sun god threw up his left hand to block with a silver bracer etched with the symbol of the Greek Fates. As the solar flames cooled and wrapped around him, the bracer cracked and tumbled from his wrist.

  It’s been here a while; I don’t have to break it immediately, but I don’t want to leave it contaminating this town.