Yes, muffins existed "back then". I did my research, damn it! :P
Chapter 3
The boat
pulled into the dock at New Haven shortly after noon. The sun had gone behind
the clouds, cooling the air considerably. Dane was grateful for the reprieve
from the heat. Channeling his spell for as long as he had been had caused him
to break out into a sweat, and the heat had only exacerbated it. He slumped
down on a seat at the stern, letting out a great sigh as Tyrarl tossed the rope
over to the dock, ensuring their vessel wouldn't float away.
“Time to go
see the client,” Tyrarl said, already ambling out of the boat and making Dane
feel sick.
Dane
glanced over at the town. It was a simple enough city, built only a few years
prior after the Legion attacked Sanctuary. Originally, it had been built as a
refuge to house the ursar and dwarves that had fled Olaraa, but now New Haven
was a fully fledged city under Sanctuary's banners. Tall wooden poles, carved
from thick tree trunks, were joined together by heavy ropes to form a wall
around the town. The gate had a floral arch over it, with many different
flowers of dozens of colors in full bloom, like a rainbow. The buildings just
inside the town were of simple wooden construction, housing for those who
couldn't afford the nicer materials. Deeper in, homes were constructed out of
stone and even brick-and-mortar. Many of these places were for officials to
work out of, those whom governed New Haven and communicated with Sanctuary on
matters of importance.
It looked
just like any other town. It was a shame, Dane thought, that such a peaceful
little hamlet could have only been born by the tragedy of war.
“Well?”
Tyrarl asked, his voice rising.
“Naw,” Dane
huffed, “I'd rather not leave the boat right now. I'm exhausted.”
“So I see.
I told you that spell was a waste of magic.”
Dane waved
his hands, shooing Tyrarl away. “And if we'd taken a row boat, we'd both be
tired.” New Haven was only a stones throw away, but with every muscle aching
and his body drenched in sweat, it could've been leagues away for all he cared.
“I don't really want to go into town anyways. I have everything I need for this
trip right here,” he said, patting his belt pouch. “Besides, there's someone
there I'd rather not run into.”
Tyrarl
scoffed at this. “You humans are certainly good at burning bridges. If it isn't
alliances or treaties, it's with your friends and neighbors.”
“Don't
presume so much!” Dane snapped. He should've known better than to say something
like that. The elf was always looking to say something to disparage humans at
any opportunity. “I just have a lot of ties to people in the area, and they're
not exactly fond of my choice of employment.”
“Well, far
be it for me to judge what a man wants,” Tyrarl said, sarcasm dripping in his
voice like blood off a dagger. “I'll go meet the client. You wait here and have
a nice, little nap, princess.”
Dane
scowled at Tyrarl's back as the elf turned around. He didn't like having his
own words thrown back at him. He kept his mouth shut though, knowing that he
probably did deserve the cold attitude being given to him. It wasn't worth the
effort to argue with Tyrarl, so he leaned back in the boat and rested his head
against the side. He could feel the water lapping at his hair as it dangled
over the edge.
It's not
as if I don't want to go into New Haven. Watching this tub is going to be
boring, especially when I don't know how long Tyrarl is going to be. Dane's
eyelids began to feel heavy. He'd thought that he'd gotten enough sleep the
night before, but perhaps he really was more tired from the run from Raken than
he realized. But I'd rather not bump into Arion and have 'the talk' again.
The
ursar monk had been pestering Dane since he'd returned to Sanctuary after
leaving the Kitairan military. He wanted him to join his Order, to take up the
mantle of monkhood as a follower of Xenar. Dane had declined the offer, saying
that he'd much prefer to be on his own. It felt better that way. It felt right.
Even though he was a believer in Xenar, the All-Healer, he knew he had the
freedom to worship and pray to him in whatever manner he wished. Xenar wasn't
the kind of deity that made a fuss about attending sermons or going to temple
on a weekly basis, like some Gods.
It's not
even that he's always bugging me to join the Peacekeepers. I wouldn't mind
tagging along and learning from them if they weren't formally part of the
Olaraan Army. I'm tired of being tied down by the bureaucrats and politics that
come with the uniform. I want to be free for once in my life. He rolled
over and looked at his reflection in the water. Dark bags hung under his eyes
as they rippled in the waves. Besides, I already turned down Gantors' offer
countless times. He wouldn't be very happy if I turned and went behind his back
to accept Arion's.
Dane
reached for his water skin and rolled back over. He took a long drought of it,
and before replacing the cap he squirted a liberal amount on himself, washing
away the sweat that had accumulated. His stomach growled at him, like an
untamed beast, and he'd remembered that all he'd had to eat since he woke up
was a stale piece of bread. Suddenly, he regretted not taking up Cain's offer
to a meal before he left the inn.
I can't
conjure food. I've already got enough mana in my body, summoned food is just
going to make me more sick. His thoughts turned to the trail rations he'd
packed the night before. No, I need to save those in case this job takes too
long.
With a groan, Dane hefted himself up and steadied
his stance as the boat wobbled. Perhaps slipping into town real quick wouldn't
be so bad. If he was lucky, he'd be in and out and back to the boat before
Tyrarl even noticed he was gone.
His boots
clomped on the dock, passing by a few dwarves who were fishing off the sides. A
little keg of ale sat between them, and Dane almost wished he could join them.
Once this job was done, he figured he'd take a break for a few days and spend
some time at his favourite tavern.
The wooden
boards eventually ended at a dirt trail that wound around a small hill towards
New Haven's gates. As Dane approached, he noted there were no guards keeping
watch. It wasn't unusual for security at the town to be light, especially since
the watch towers on the other side of the walls allowed them to see approaching
boats coming to the island from all directions. It made New Haven seem that
much more at peace, without a care or worry that anything bad could happen.
With all
the troubles contained to the south, and Rogust being locked down by the rest
of the Coalition, the troubles of the world seemed far off from where Dane
stood. But that's when he remembered the job the Blackguard had assigned Tyrarl
and him. Clearly, something was going on somewhere on one of the islands in
Crystal Lake. It was going to take some time to find anything.
Most of
the area's still not fully mapped. There's so many islands all over the place,
it's a wonder people don't get lost out here.
After
stepping through the gate, Dane looked at the nearest buildings, trying to
distinguish the homes from the businesses. Few of them had signs or any goods
in the windows, so he was certain that they were just homes for the people
living there. Two buildings down on his left, however, was one with a sign over
the door of a chest with various goods spilling out of it, with the word
“Sundries” carved into the wood.
Dane quickly
slipped into the building, disappearing from the streets and heading into the
dimly lit business. The shelves were stocked with everything that a traveler
could need. Flasks, flint and tinder, water proof boxes, bait, fishing poles,
bags, trail rations... anything and everything he could think of that he'd ever
needed on a journey before. At the front near the counter were two small
shelves with wicker baskets, a cloth draped over the bottom of them and filled
with baked goods. Muffins filled one basket, some of them with fruit inside
them and others just plain. Another basket had croissants, an elven variation
of a puff pastry.
Something
other than dried meat and hardtack would be nice for once. Even a plain muffin
would do. Dane could feel his mouth salivating. As he approached the
counter, he was greeted by the shopkeeper.
“Afternoon,
sir,” the dwarf said with a chipper tone of voice, “What can I get for ya?”
Dane looked
at the offering next to the counter, and had a hard time deciding between a couple
blueberry muffins or a couple croissants. He wondered if he should get anything
for Tyrarl, not knowing whether the elf would appreciate the gesture or be
annoyed that he bought him something. With a shrug, Dane grabbed a handful of
both and put them on the counter.
“I guess
I'll take all these,”he said and chuckled.
“Aye, no
problem. Long day ahead of you?” The dwarf began to place the goods in a bag
for Dane.
“Something
like that. Headed out into the lake for a few days.”
The dwarf
nodded. “Well, judging by your get up, hopefully it's nothing all that serious.
It's too peaceful up here to be carryin' weapons around, ya know?”
“I agree,
but,” Dane said as he pulled a few coins from his belt pouch, “The world is a
different place than it was ten years ago.”
The dwarf
chuckled at his remark as he took the coins. “Nay lad, the world ain't changed.
It's been the same it's always been. There's always been backstabbin', and
fightin', and all that other stuff. Weren't too long ago when we had Kitair blockaded
to keep their war from spreadin' to our lands, back duing the Altair Divide.”
He slid the bag across the counter to Dane. “Perhaps it's just your perceptions
that've changed?”
Dane
smiled. “Perhaps you're right.” He didn't grab the bag of groceries right away.
“Were you around for the Altair Divide?”
“Aye, some
two hundred years ago. I'm getting' too old for all this fightin' everybody is
doing. Was in the military at the time, working the blockade. Easy stuff but
scary too. Had us put two arrows into any elf trying to break through the
blockade until the war ended.”
“Why would
you do that?” Dane asked. “If they were fighting amongst each other, was there
really a threat to the Coalition?”
“Oh, no
this was near the end of the war you see, when Kitair was winning against the
rebels,” the dwarf told him. “Word is there was some backroom dealin's going on
an the Coalition was asked to slaughter any that tried to escape the kingdom.”
“But some
got away, or no one would've founded Altair down on Jha'zal,” Dane pointed out.
He only knew loosely about the Altair Divide that had occurred between the
Loyalist and Rebels in Kitair. “They got away some how.”
“The
Snowhoof helped 'em,” the dwarf said. “Y'see, Rogust and Olaraa were still new
nations after the Orcish Empire fell. Probably only a couple hundred years old
at least. We still believed in everythin' that Laren told us. Greed was good.
The minotaur disagreed and helped the Altair cross the blockade and on ships to
get off the continent. Coalition wasn't happy but they didn't find out about it
until decades later when we learned about Altair being settled.”
“And I
guess by the time that happened, any humans in power would've been dead or not
cared.” Dane said, nodding his head sagely. “I guess after all, we humans are
short-lived. We change as often as the seasons.”
“Bah,
that's no excuse. Dwarves change often too. You just don't see it.”
“I'll trust
your word on that one. Thank you for the goods and for the chat.” Dane hefted
the bag up off the counter and bid the shopkeeper farewell.
“Aye, thank
you for your business. I trust you'll be careful out there, whatever you're
planning.”
Dane
nodded, and left the store. He'd only been inside for a couple minutes, and he
hoped that Tyrarl hadn't yet returned to the boat yet. He wasn't sure why he
cared if the elf caught him loitering around and shopping, but perhaps it was a
bit of guilt for feeling like he should have been working instead of getting
food.
He pulled
out a muffin and began to eat it when he was interrupted by someone calling his
name.
“Good
morning, Dane Trueshot.”
He knew
that voice. He'd heard it countless times before. That didn't fill him with any
sort of comfort though. Dane turned around slowly to face Arion Clothspinner,
head monk of the Order of Peacekeepers. The ursar still wore the same silken
purple robe with a gold lining, and approached him calmly. His padded feet made
no sound upon the hard-packed dirt road. He had a small smile spread across his
muzzle, his eyes beaming with what Dane could only describe as having a love of
life.
“How are
you faring today?” Arion asked, stopping a few feet from Dane.
“I've been
well,” Dane replied. He was doing his best to hide his unease, the awkward
feeling building in his stomach. Ursar were empaths, that much was certain, but
Arion was much more than that. He'd never been able to misdirect or lie to him
before.
“What
brings you to New Haven?”
“Oh, I'm
just on a job,” Dane said simply, not bothering to answer the question
directly. “My companion is looking around for our client.” Arion raised an
eyebrow at the use of the word companion. Dane was quick to correct him and
said, “Not that kind of companion.”
“Ah, my
apologies. I shouldn't have assumed,” Arion tilted his head downwards for a
brief moment. “I was really hoping you'd meet someone. You seem... lonely.”
“Is that a
bad thing?” Dane said, his voice rising. He stopped and recomposed himself.
“Sorry, I didn't mean to get angry. I've not thought about finding a new
companion. Not since Roweo-”
“You don't
need to explain. I understand,” Arion interrupted him by holding his paw up. “I
shouldn't have brought it up.”
A tense
silence fell between the two friends. Dane became aware of the acrid smell of a
forge working nearby, it's black plumes of smoke rising like a snake into the
air from a nearby smithy. The town was quiet save for the chirping of birds and
the chattering of squirrels. He shifted his gait from favouring his right foot
to his left.
“Anyways,”
Arion said, breaking the silence, “I was curious if you'd given any thought to
my offer. You know you're always welcome amongst use, Dane.”
“I know.”
Dane looked down at his feet. Why did he feel like he was being judged? “I know
you mean well, but I assure you I'm fine on my own.”
“But this
mercenary work isn't good for you, you know that,” Arion said. “Look, you have
bags under your eyes, you look tired, I can sense your exhaustion. Don't you
want a break from all the fighting?”
“I want a
break from authority,” Dane replied. “I'm tired of answering to other people. I
want to have the freedom to do what I want, when I want it. I can choose to
leave the Blackguard any time I want. I don't have to do any jobs I don't want.
But most importantly, I don't have to answer to any military commanders. I'm
tired of the red tape, the paper work, the politics. I want to be able to help
people in my own way, without anything else obstructing my path.”
“Dane, you
know it's not like that.”
“I know
full well what your offer means!” Dane snapped. “You're still part of the
Olaraan military. You and I both know that, so there's no use in pretending
otherwise. I don't want to be tied to another military ever again. I'm not cut
out for it, alright? I understand both you and Gantors have a desire to help
me, but I'm telling you both I don't need help. I'm find on my own.”
Arion's
face drooped, but he perked up quickly. Not quick enough to pass Dane's notice.
The two of them had been close friends since they'd met during the war, and it
pained him to know that he might have hurt Arion's feelings.
“I'm sorry,
okay?” Dane said, sighing. “I'm just not ready for something like rejoining the
military.” He rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. “It's been the same
no matter where I've been. When I lived with my father, I was under his rule.
When I was at the orphanage, I was pushed around by the older kids. At the
R.A.A.S., I had to answer to more skilled mages. In Rogust, I had to follow
that moron Digran's orders. Kitair wasn't any different. I was reprimanded hard
for my decision to chase Tal'nix all the way to Buselna.”
“The
Purebloods in Kitair wanted me hanged for my desertion. If not for the Queen's
intervention, I would not be standing here before you. Everything I've done,
everything I've decided, has been to chase my dream to help people.”
He stopped
and looked up at the cloud-covered sky. “No, our dream.” His voice sounded far
away, like he wasn't talking to anyone around him. Dane met Arion's gaze. “This
is what feels right to me. It's not in my best interest, but this is all I
have. The Coalition will hunt me down as a vigilante if I'm not part of the
Blackguard. This is all I can do to retain my freedom and continue to follow my
dream. Don't you understand?”
“Somewhat,”
Arion answered shortly. “I'll leave you be then, Master Trueshot.”
The ursar
turned and left, walking at a slightly hurried pace. Dane cursed, knowing that
he'd hurt his friend's feelings and knowing that his trip would be that much
more unbearable with this weight hanging in his mind.
He took
another bite of his muffin, and it tasted bitter in his mouth.
* * * * *
Some time
after Dane had returned to the boat, he saw the rope begin to move as Tyrarl
untied it from the dock. He looked up at the elf, only half aware of what he
was saying.
“Well, the
client wasn't any help, as expected,” Tyrarl said. “All he's seen is boats
heading north east from New Haven. So we'll have to start there.” He stopped to
take a look at the lake around them. The wind has shifted a bit to the east, so
at least we won't have to rely on your magic anymore.”
Dane
grunted in response, but otherwise remained silent. He had too much on his mind
right now, and didn't care much for the elf's words.
Tyrarl
looked down at the bag situated in the center of the boat. “What's this? Did
you go shopping?”
Dane
shrugged.
Tyrarl
waited for him to say something, but giving up, he reached in and grabbed a
croissant. “Well, at least you have good taste in food. For a human.”
“Shut up,”
Dane whispered. His looked past the elf at the town, as their vessel drifted
out into the lake. It might be days, even weeks before they returned, but he
wasn't thinking about that. He wanted to apologize to Arion. Dane was quick to
remind himself that Arion was not his companion, he was just a friend. Nothing
more. There was no reason to feel accountable for hurting his feelings.
Yet the
thought nagged at him as he watched Tyrarl raise the sails to begin moving
their ship. Why did he care so much? It hurt like when he'd gotten into an
argument with Aiden, his partner from so long ago.
“Hey, are
you paying attention?” Tyrarl asked, snapping Dane out of his thoughts. “It's
going to be sunset in a few hours so we'll need to make camp on one of the
islands.”
“Yeah,
sure. Whatever you say.”
Dane
reached for another muffin from the bag but as he held it, he realized he
wasn't all that hungry and set it back. His stomach protested but he ignored
the rumbling sound it made. Hunger could wait. Right now he was too focused on
other things to care.
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