Child of Wolves

Avira

The only light in the tunnel emanated from Mareth's orb. Illuminating a small area beyond their boat, the group could only glimpse the smooth sandstone making up the tunnel walls. Even Avira's superior night vision couldn't pierce the veil of shadow after that. A stale wind blew against them, carrying a grimy and foul scent. She could hear something muffled in the distance.

“So you came from the northern port after visiting L'Ries, right Hawke?” Mareth asked, sitting down in the cushioned boat. “Why not just go from L'Ries to Nidara and then to Vakia from there? It's a much simpler trip.”

“Well that route means you have to deal with daemons. I would have gone straight to Nidara had I known the borders were closed though. I came to Drima cause I wanted to visit their famous bathhouses before I go home,” Hawke explained.

“Why does traveling the human world need to be so complicated...” Avira muttered.

“We can't all pee on our territory to mark the borders,” Mareth shrugged.

“Very funny,” Avira rolled her eyes.

“Do... you actually do that?” Hawke asked.

“No. Well, most of us don't,” Avira replied, “let's not talk about this. These tunnels smell weird.”

“I'd imagine so, considering they connect to sewers.” Mareth examined the water, crystal clear.

“Why is it— ”

“So clean? Well, they have systems in place to treat them efficiently before they merge with the rest of the water supply,” Mareth stated matter-of-factly.

“Systems being a bunch of gross squid people that eat fecal matter and defecate water,” Hawke said.

“What the fuck,” Avira said, “I drank that water! You're saying I drank squid shit?”

“If you've drank water in any major city you have. That's how we keep the streets clean. Before the mages created them, people just dumped their chamber pots into the road. Now we drop it into the sewers, let the xatopods clean it, and we're all good,” Hawke told her.

“Fucking civilization...” Avira grumbled, “Just shit in a hole in the woods, no need for an entire underground system or the creation of an entire species!”

“The hybrid life isn't for everyone. It isn't even for all hybrids,” Mareth said.

“Let's just enjoy the ride in silence,” stated Avira.

This boat was fast. She wasn't sure how, but it seemed like it knew exactly where to go. The currents led it through turns, side paths, and straightaways as it shot through the tunnels, always keeping the same speed. Avira wondered how they did it. A mix of magic and elemental power? Was there someone in the maze of aqueducts affecting the current and controlling everything? Was there a hidden mechanism somewhere?

In any case, it was going to be a long ride. Avira spent her time with the adventure book she bummed off Mareth, though she infrequently took the time to watch the tunnel walls. Occasionally she'd catch a glimpse of figures standing in the tunnels, which startled her until she realized they were hybrid slaves maintaining the place. That put a bad taste in her mouth. They didn't have anyone overseeing them, which struck Avira as strange. She wondered why they didn't run.

“So, uhh... how long is this gonna take?” Avira finally asked after realizing how long they'd been sitting in the boat.

“A day, probably.” Hawke shrugged.

Avira's eyes opened wide. “A day?!” she exclaimed.

“It's effectively a trip from the northernmost tip of the country to the southernmost. It's a long distance,” Mareth explained while reading.

“We've got food to eat in the meantime.” Hawke gestured to the group's packs set in the corner of the boat.

“This is way too small a boat for me to spend a whole day in it with two random dudes...” Avira said, feeling panic coming on as she realized she was trapped in this tunnel.

Hawke furrowed his brow as he saw her reaction. “I'm not gonna try anything, don't worry. Are you okay?”

Avira nodded, but she felt her breathing get heavier. It felt like the tunnel walls were getting smaller, the air more stifling.

“Uhh...” worry permeated Hawke's voice, “sorry, I should have told you. Umm... try taking deep breaths, okay?”

It took effort, but Avira managed to control her breath, taking them slow and deliberately. It helped, but she could still feel her heart throbbing in her chest. “Do you guys mind if I work out a little? It helps me when I get like this,” she asked.

Avira could spot a hint of a blush on Hawke's cheeks. “Uh, sure.”

“Careful you don't topple overboard,” Mareth said, not looking up from his book.

Avira spent the rest of the trip doing some light exercises, the group chatting through the day. By the end she just covered herself in sheets and hid under her covers, where she remained for the rest of the boat ride.

Light shone through the tunnel from an exit they were flowing towards. A salty wind struck them, carrying the scent of a port town. Fish, filth, booze, and sweat. The same as a normal town, just more fish. Avira perked up, tail wagging as she saw that they were finally at their destination.

The boat floated out of the tunnel and into what looked like a large fountain. There were a number of other boats lined at the edge and a raised platform for them to step onto. Avira noticed lots of armed guards milling about, tending to the water and boats.

Hawke spoke to them while Avira and Mareth unloaded their things and they were walking down the street momentarily. The city layout struck Avira as strange. The walkways were narrow and rivers ran down each street. The entire city was made of stone when it wasn't wooden piers, and the city itself was nauseatingly busy, but most travel was being done in the waterways. Many were on boats or using their abilities to simply glide along the water. The city seemed to have a lot of water elementals. To be expected in Drima.

She stuck close to Hawke and Mareth who were discussing the plans with each other. She didn't want to get caught in a crowd here. She'd be able to find them if she got lost, but a crowd of people was more than she could handle.

“So, Avira, we're going to find somewhere to eat and see if we can't find a few rooms.” Hawke glanced back at her. “Getting a ship might be difficult, we might be stuck here for a few days. We'll work it out though.”

“Alright,” Avira said, “I guess I'm not any help now that we're out of the desert...”

“I'd probably be dead out there without you, so I owe it to you to get you where you need to go at least,” Hawke said, “Honor's important with my type.”

“Thanks,” she told him, “I might seem like a cold bitch, but it's appreciated, really.”

“Ha! Don't worry, I realize it's awkward for a hybrid from the Wilds to adjust to life in the wider world,” Hawke smiled.

“That's true. Hopefully I'll be back there soon.” Avira looked to the west, where she knew her homeland was.

“If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a bit about your lands when I get the chance,” Hawke spoke.

“Uh, sure,” Avira said, “least I can do is answer some questions.”

“Delightful.”

“I wouldn't mind learning about your land as well,” Mareth said, “I'm an inquisitive type, as you know.”

“Mmhm...” Avira muttered, “I've learned that plenty.”

This town was oppressive. It felt hostile to her, and she could feel eyes drilling into her backside whenever they passed people. Partly because she was a hybrid, but she almost felt like they knew she was a derelict. Combine that with the strange architecture as well as the winding, maze-like paths, and her skin crawled with dread.

Avira continued to stay close to her companions, looking around and taking in her surroundings while she did. She noticed Drima guards on most corners, armed with halberds and wearing brigandine and a thin layer of gambeson. They wore a crest of blue and yellow adorned with an illustration of an octopus. The guards didn't take notice of Hawke or Mareth but shot Avira a glare. She couldn't help but notice a large quantity of Argokath soldiers milling about as well. Their coat of arms were purple and red, and their logo was that of a crown with a spear through it.

“If I remember right, this establishment is very pleasant,” Mareth spoke to the others, stopping and pointing at a nearby doorway.

Avira glanced over. A pleasant aroma drifted out of it and she could hear lots of merriment, but a sign hanging next to the door caught her attention. “It says no hybrids,” she told them.

“Ah, a shame that, but we need a lodging we can all use,” Hawke said.

They passed one after another, but each inn had a similar sign or notice out front. Those that weren't were full up, thanks to the influx of soldiers in the town. It was looking all but hopeless until a cloaked homeless man they passed called out to them. “Hawke, right?” he inquired, “I heard you were in town.”

“Who would you be?” Hawke examined the man. It was hard to make out any details about him, as shadows were cast over most of his face.

“I'm sure you're aware. Go to the Drunken Trout Tavern in the southern district, and give this note to the barkeep.” He handed a folded parchment to him. “We can help each other out.”

Hawke unfolded the paper and his face went pale. “Uh... yes, I'll head there right away.”

“Good. See you around.” The man walked past them and vanished the moment he left their eyesight. Avira couldn't even smell him.

“Who was that?” Avira asked.

“I don't know him specifically, but let's just say there's certain people in this world that even people in my position should listen to,” Hawke said.

“Scandalous,” Mareth spoke up, “he said the southern district, yes? Let's go.”

They wandered the labyrinth of bridges, alleys, stairs, and curves, Mareth proving handy with directions. An alleyway that could only be described as dubious and a rickety wooden door later, they found the tavern in question. The musty air hit them as they entered, greeted by murmurs and glares. Lamias, harpies, a handful of other hybrids, but mainly human. By their demeanor, Avira could tell that this tavern was part of a much larger underbelly for this city. She could only imagine what sort of people this place attracted.

Hawke walked to the barkeep and placed the paper on the counter. The bartender opened it, and Avira was able to see what was scrawled on it. A crude illustration of a man with a noose around his neck. It didn't mean anything to her, but the barkeeper simply motioned to the back door and folded the paper into his pocket.

They silently filed into the back. Best they didn't say much until they knew what was going on. It was deceptively large back here, as large as the last room if not bigger. Avira spotted stairs leading down further into the building. In this room was a man seated at a table set up in the back, surrounded by empty bottles of booze. She could smell the drink on his breath from here, but something about him had her on edge.

“Come on over then,” he called, waving them over.

“Who are you?” Avira asked from across the room as Mareth and Hawke complied.

“Does it matter? Let's just say I'm your ticket to Vakia.” He gave a yellow toothed grin.

Hawke sat down and eyed Avira, “He's no danger to us. If he was, we'd know by now.”

“Hmm...” Avira mumbled, “I'm just gonna sit over here,” she grabbed a stool and sat a few paces away from them.

“Heh, don't trust me? Good senses on you. Not that I'm surprised with your occupation.” The drunk grinned, taking a sip of a liquid she couldn't identify, but she had an educated guess.

“My occupation?” Avira asked. She wasn't wearing her sash right now, and even if she was not many people knew what it meant.

“Sentries like you always have a look to them. Tough, aware, always expecting danger. It's an aspect I admire, despite everything else.”

“I'm not a common sentry.”

“I don't doubt it.”

“How do you even know about us? Who are you?”

“Hmm. Well, I'm sure your friend the prince already knows, but it's only fair I allow you to make a guess.”

She stared at him, mind racing. Hawke's reaction, his casual demeanor, the sense of danger she felt from him... “You're someone important, but more for the group you're a part of than who you are. A group that favors discretion, and is able to exchange favors with royalty. I would say spy, but... I get the sense that it's deadlier than that. An assassin?”

He didn't have much of a reaction at all, which annoyed Avira. “Correct. Very astute. I suppose you aren't a typical sentry after all.”

So he knew her occupation, but not specifically who she was. That was comforting. “Enough pleasantries. Who are you?”

“Yes, I suppose it's bad form to keep it a secret.” He slid his glass away, sitting up. His demeanor changed into something more serious. “I don't have a name, but I'm known as Ruin. I represent a group known as the Hanged Men. We harbor no great love for Argokath and would like to assist you on your way to Vakia, in return for a small favor.”

“Assist us on our way, how?” Hawke asked him, “and what favor?”

“We can get you on a merchant vessel to Argokath so you can discreetly travel through the country. A lot better than getting identified at the port. I know you have a cease-fire, but I'll be honest, they'd know your face and they'd stick you like a pig.”

“Fair enough. Suppose we don't have much choice here. What's the favor then?” Hawke asked, surprisingly relaxed next to Ruin.

“I need you to help me take a slave ship,” Ruin said.

“Couldn't you do that yourself?” Avira asked.

“By myself, a ship stocked with Argokath troops? Likely, but even I wouldn't escape unscathed. But the prince, and I suspect you, will provide plenty of backup,” Ruin said.

“Hmm. Sounds to me you're just being cost efficient,” Mareth commented.

“True, but is there really a problem with that?” Ruin smirked. “Anyways, you're free to stay here the next few days. We have rooms down the stairs. Just— if you see anyone else, don't talk to them unless they talk to you. I'm the only face you need to know, got it?” They all gave nods of understanding and got up to inspect their living quarters. “Oh, and Avira.” He called, the wolf girl looking back. “Feel free to visit me later. I could teach you a few things.”

Avira scoffed, ignoring him.

#

Mareth

Although cities usually had mages who specialized in handling souls, Mareth noticed quite a few on the road he happily sucked into his amulet. Either the local mages were being lax on their duties or people were dying in secret.

When Mareth entered his small stone room that had been so graciously provided by this shady group, he decided to take his amulet out. “Witness?” he called.

Witness appeared in front of him. “You know as well as I do that you aren't going to get much information off of normal ghosts.”

“I realize that. Did you bring one?” Mareth asked.

“Couldn't find any daemons in the making,” Witness responded, “but this one seemed of interest.”

Witness looked to his right, and Mareth focused his attention to the other spirit that Witness had brought. His dark skin and thick hair marked him as Driman. He stood with a blank expression, the same most wandering spirits had plastered on their faces. He did seem soaked, however.

“Did he drown to death?” Mareth mused.

“Surely you don't believe that would have been an accident in Drima,” Witness said.

“No,” Mareth waved his amulet and sucked up the lost soul, “I already knew about the disappearing anti-draining protesters. Not that surprising to have what everyone suspected confirmed.”

“You think you'll tell anyone?” Witness asked.

“Nah. I was more interested in learning the information than using it.” Mareth smiled, laying down and cracking his book open.

He managed to fall asleep in the middle of a passage, thanks to the unusually soft beds here. Like always, he didn't get much rest and woke up periodically through the night, unable to handle his nightmares for a sustained period of time. A knock on his door awoke him from another.

Avira was at the door, looking relaxed. “Hey. Food's on. Same table we used last time.”

“Thank you for letting me know,” Mareth said, “Did you sleep well?”

“Well enough. I found some Lure. Calms a hybrid down like nothing else.” She smirked, ear flicking.

“Ah. I've never resorted to recreational drugs, myself.” Mareth responded.

“I don't use them often. Still, you might want to look into it. Might help you sleep better.”

Mareth watched her leave before receding into the room. He took a moment to rub his temples and wake up. He must have gotten what, four hours of sleep? Not bad, all things considered. At least he got to visit Drima, unwelcome as he felt. A walk around the city later would wake him up.

Mareth changed clothes and freshened up, finding his way to the area Hawke and Avira were seated. The room had a handful of other tables, only two or three of which had anyone else sitting there. They didn't so much as glance at him, and it was easy to tune out their low mutterings.

“Hey,” Hawke said, “Eggs, bacon, and pancakes.”

“I just got bacon and eggs. Hawke was kind enough to donate his eggs to me.” Avira grinned.

“I'm not crazy about harpy eggs.” Hawke scratched his chin, almost shy in the way he explained.

“It certainly beats the dried meats and nuts from the desert,” Mareth stated as he ate.

“I'm used to fancier meals myself,” Hawke said.

“I'm sure. It's hard to believe you're a prince, you don't really talk like one,” Avira said.

“How am I supposed to talk?” Hawke asked.

“Oh, I don't know. More elegant I guess. Sprinkle thays and thees throughout ” Avira shrugged.

“Ah, I can clear this up.” Mareth smiled. “That manner of speaking, I suppose you'd call it posh, was mainly used by mage royalty. The rest of the world's royalty used to use it, but after mage leadership largely fell from grace what with the Tear and all, it simply fell out of style.”

“Huh. I'm glad for that honestly, I don't think I could stand hearing it this whole trip,” Avira said.

“Agreed,” said Hawke, “it's better this way anyways. One more way to get rid of class and social barriers.”

“Unless you're the wrong race of course,” Avira said, “Or a derelict...”

“Yes, things could always improve, I agree on that.” Hawke nodded.

“I think education also plays a vital role. Sure, some scholars and mages are ignorant, but when the common man learns then enlightenment eliminates prejudice,” Mareth added.

“Depends on the teachers I think. Speaking of, you said you're a scholar, Mareth. You ever teach?” Avira looked at him.

“Oh, that's a long story. Let's just say the universities don't like the schools of magic I take interest in.” Mareth smiled.

“Fair enough.” Avira shrugged.

“Interesting conversation.” A hooded figure walked over, sitting with the group. Mareth recognized him as the homeless man from earlier. He was in the same cloak, dark red and casting a shadow over his face. “You can call me Penn. I'm showing you our objective and informing you of the specifics.”

Avira was eyeing him intensely, but he seemed like a normal person to Mareth. “Penn? I'm Mareth.” He offered a handshake.

“I'm aware of your names.” He waved Mareth's hand away, but Mareth managed to see what looked like arcane symbols branded to his palms. “I'll also be the one transporting you to the merchant ship upon completion of your job. My wife may help, we'll have to see what the captain of the ship is thinking.”

“Assassins have wives?” Avira asked.

“Her name's Grace. And yes, we're human and have lives like everyone else,” Penn replied.

“Weird names though,” said Avira.

“Me and Ruin and the rest of us don't have names. Grace isn't part of the work, that's just her name,” Penn explained.

“Oh. Okay,” she replied, “Makes sense I guess.”

“Anyways. I see you've all eaten. Come along then. We'll get through this quick, and I can direct you to a hybrid friendly bathhouse so you can rid yourself of that grime and sweat.” Penn stood, the others following.

Mareth found the town quite pleasant. Well, the part they were in yesterday. This area was clearly where the poorer folk lived. Less guards, less sanitation, even the normally crystal clear waters were tinted brown and green. His high class clothes and the telltale signs of his magical nature had him catching glares, but they looked away when they noticed Penn.

The layout of the town was neat and orderly, but the buildings were packed extremely tight together. It was laid out in grids, sometimes the pattern changing and marking the start of more expansion. Typical big city construction. The number of homeless and ne'er-do-wells thinned out as they found their way to the docks. The sea salt hit them as they watched burly fishermen and dirty sailors working. There were a fair number of Argokath ships, troops milling around.

They were watching from an alley, trying to act inconspicuous. “Notice anything?” Penn looked at them, leaning on a wall.

“Argokath vessels,” said Hawke.

“They appear to be unloading their cargo,” Mareth observed, “selling something?”

“That one, there.” Avira nodded to an Argokath ship that wasn't unloading anything. “They're returning to their country soon.”

“Aye,” Penn confirmed, “The job's simple. Kill the crew, hijack the boat, take the cargo for ourselves.”

“What are you, a pirate group?” Avira asked.

“Only a few of those around, but no. It's similar, but we're after different goals than simple treasure and profit,” Penn explained.

“Probably don't want us asking too many questions, but how exactly are we going to get on the boat?” Mareth asked.

“A simple matter. They'll be loading it up in a week or so, you'll be smuggling in via some barrels,” Penn said. “Tight fit, but I'm sure you'll all be fine. Not too much resistance is expected. A mage and a musket-man, maybe an elemental, otherwise a bunch of derelicts. That's all you need to know for now. Follow me, I can still smell the desert on you.”

Mixed bathing was the lay of the land in Drima. This bathhouse had a large room for changing and handing your clothes to a worker and optional towels on your way to the baths themselves. A spacious room held a few different bathing areas that weren't separated by walls, but signs pointed out what temperatures each one was with a simple illustration.

Mareth had a towel wrapped around his waist, choosing a nice and hot bath to settle in. The moment he touched the water he could feel it soaking into him, relieving days worth of tension. That combined with the fragrance of lilac that seeped through the place relaxed him thoroughly. No wonder Hawke wanted to come to Drima just for this.

An uncovered Avira walked by him on her way to the hybrid baths. Most of the hybrids didn't have towels, and they were helping wash each other regardless of gender. He'd heard that bathing as a group was popular among hybrids. Nice in concept, but all that fur? Even the bath the hybrids were in had plenty of it floating around.

He glanced over to Hawke, visibly trying not to look in Avira's direction while chatting with a number of elementals. Mostly discussing politics. Mareth was content relaxing right now. Not even the occasional whisper that escaped from his amulet that he hadn't removed bothered him. He could almost drown out the world.

Stomping of feet and a group of hybrids running towards the entrance attracted Mareth's attention. He looked over, seeing that they were the group that Avira was bathing with. The scholar looked to Avira, and saw her standing over a body. Blood was smeared on her mouth, an indescribable expression on her face. A human woman laid lifeless in front of her.