The gray-eyed girl glanced at Reiden, seeking permission to speak. The man's response was to release her, but without taking his eyes off her, keeping one hand firmly gripped on the handle of the parry dagger sheathed at his waist, while his sword on the other side remained untouched…for the ti being.
“M-my na is Tristessa,” she introduced herself, feeling her mouth dry and forced to moisten her lips before continuing. “Tristessa Irandell.”
The rcenaries looked at each other, unfamiliar with her family na.
“A pleasure, Tristessa Irandell,” the old woman said, looking at her without blinking once since she sat down. “So tell , Tristessa Irandell, what brings you to this Gods-forsaken place? You see, my employees here can beco quite nervous when there’re people lurking around in the dark.”
“I-I didn't an to alert your rcenaries!” she said quickly. “You see, Mada, I'm on my way to Entrana. I was just looking for a place to rest until the sun rises.”
“Like us! We decided to spend the night here, our destination being the Fishing Village in the Bay of Rün. We always find so lost soul there who needs to conduct business…”
“Mada Luchie,” Reiden warned, interrupting her.
“Oh, right, right. Excuse this old woman, dear Reiden, sotis my tongue gets unknotted and starts rambling nonstop,” said Mada Karla, laughing. She leaned back against the headrest and began to stuff tobacco leaves into a long, black and trimd with lines of gold smoking pipe. “May I ask why you want to go to Entrana, Tristessa Irandell? To kidnap children, massacre innocents, or…?”
“N-no! I'm not one of those Shadow Queen-worshipping madwon!” Tristessa bellowed, her anger blinding her so fast that she didn't notice the rcenaries shifting in their seats, watching her every move. “I want to see the Coven destroyed!”
“Of course, who wouldn't? But you'll understand my concerns: you're a young woman from the south, arriving via the Abandoned ridion Highway... I admit that the witches of the Coven usually lurk far from the most obvious paths, but more than one turned out to be a hopeless fool who tried to attack our humble caravan..."
Suddenly, the three n, whose nas Tristessa didn't know, threatened to draw their weapons: a great-axe, a flamberge-type sword, and a firestone thaumaturgy wand. The woman, on the other hand, had her multi-shot crossbow resting against her right shoulder.
“I co from the rcer-Archeos family ho… They are my friends, and the Coven will attack them in a few days,” she explained, her anger giving way to desperation, so much so that not even the rcenaries’ weapons could intimidate her. “I need help to save them!”
“The parents of one of the Priestesses of the Black Eye,” the rcenary woman hissed, raising her helt-obscured gaze to show Tristessa the animosity she felt reflected in her icy, dark stare.
“I share Lufreya’s sentints. If you think I care about the fate of a banished family, you are sorely mistaken.” Mada Luchie rendered Tristessa speechless with her utterly insensitive comnt. She lit her smoking pipe and inhaled, filling her aging lungs before releasing the smoke in the form of rings. “Maybe you’re not a witch, maybe you are… What do you think, kids? lian?”
“If she is a witch, the Coven standards have certainly dropped. Her soul alone gives the creeps, everything else… I don’t know. At least the last one who tried to kill us was laughing as we cut her to pieces. This one seems like an ordinary girl you might find walking the streets of Entrana,” the wand-wielding rcenary opined, scratching his head of jet-black curls. “What about you, Dom?”
“A weakling.” That was all the tall, bald rcenary who owned the flamberge said.
“I agree with lian,” Lufreya added, then looked at the missing rcenary and Reiden. “You guys?”
“I’ll pass. I’m not good at judging people,” said the rcenary with tangled blond hair and one of his front teeth missing. His right hand still gripped the handle of the massive axe he carried slung across his back, capable of splitting a dium size person in half with a single blow. “Only you remain, boss.”
The man in question walked around Tristessa until he was almost in front of her. His hands never let go of the handles of his weapons, and she was more than certain that with a single movent, Reiden could land a fatal blow without her even noticing. It was the imposing presence of a professional standing before soone who barely knew the weight of a weapon in her hands.
“There’s sothing about her I definitely don’t like…” the rcenary judged, then turned his back on the nervous girl and looked at his employer. “You have the final say, Mada.”
Mada Karla ditated in silence for a long minute. Night had already fallen, and not only an insane amount of anxiety was eating Tristessa away from within, but the bad feeling she had begun to feel hours ago had firmly lodged itself in her heart.
“I still think this girl has the qualities of a witch of the Coven, but I don't want to dismiss all of your opinions,” the old woman finally said. “What do you say we leave the final decision in the hands of the Saint of Fortune?”
“Perhaps she knows Valdrek as the Saint of Machinery and Progress,” the axe-wielding rcenary suggested.
“Purely heterodox interpretations, Bran.”
“Wait! A saint? What decision are you talking about?” Tristessa interrupted the old woman and the rcenary. Neither of them responded, but the bald rcenary, rising from the stone block and drawing his sword, took it upon himself to do so:
“Stupid girl. The Saint of Fortune will decide whether you live or die.”
Indeed. Life or Death.
It was the worst thing she feared. All that talk and debate had led to this, and Tristessa had tried to convince herself it wouldn't be so. So naive, so innocent... She was in a world where Death was a bargaining chip, and she still took it lightly, even after tasting it several tis.
“To put it simply, Tristessa Irandell: everything in this life can be negotiated, from a piece of moldy bread to an Emperor's pardon. That's why I want you to try to buy your innocence,” the old woman suggested. “Valdrek watches over the virtuous in greed and the lost souls who are worthy of a little luck. Offer sothing that will make say you're not a witch. If the Saint of Fortune is on your side, you'll surely succeed.”
“And if I have nothing to offer you?” she asked, incredulous at the rchant's irrational way of resolving a conflict where her life had just been decided by the fate of that saint she didn't know, Valdrek.
“Co on, don't be pessimistic. There's always sothing to offer in a negotiation. You can offer food, the clothes you’re wearing, every strand of hair on your head, the nails on your fingers…” A sinister shadow crossed Karla's face, not finding such exchange options disturbing at all. “So people will even offer their lives in a negotiation in exchange for restoring their honor. What do you say, Tristessa Irandell? Don't you have anything of value in your possession that might interest ?”
“Pardon , but I don't think that's the case,” the rcenary Lufreya replied in her place, having already searched her backpack and removed two items from inside. “Besides supplies, she has a map of the Dominion and this old hunting knife. What say you, Madam Luchie?”
Reiden took the task of taking the leather-sheathed knife from Lufreya and handed it to his boss, who unsheathed it and gave it a closer look.
“It appears to be from the pre-Imperial era. It might be a valuable item for a certain type of person, yes… But I don’t see it being that way for our dear guest.” Tristessa noticed Karla looking at her, analyzing her reaction, and easily noticing that the blade only brought back bad mories for its thief. “That being the case, I’m not interested.”
Mada Luchie returned the hunting weapon to Reiden and took another drag on her smoking pipe.
“Well, Tristessa Irandell? Are you going to offer sothing, or will I have to let my rcenaries rip your head off?”
“NO! Wait, I-I…!” Tristessa’s eyes widened as she rembered sothing. A small object that was supposed to be inside that backpack Lufreya had at her feet. “Let see!”
An almost suicidal act, lunging at that backpack while in such a delicate position. If Mada Luchie hadn't raised her hand to stop the rcenaries, Tristessa would have already been stabbed in the chest by Dom's flamberge. Ignoring the threatened state she was in, she rummaged through the paper-wrapped strips of at to find the object hidden in one of the backpack’s corners.
“Here!”
Smiling as if in a monuntal victory, she handed the rcenary leader the shining spherical jewel that had co to her by pure chance.
“A soul-jewel?” Reiden said, raising an eyebrow.
“So that's one of those jewels I've heard so much about. The standard currency in this world,” Tristessa thought, watching as her captor, steadfast in his actions, went to Mada Luchie to hand it over. The old woman didn't seem to share her unwanted guest's excitent.
“And why do you think you can buy your innocence with an SJ?” she asked, crushing Tristessa's hopes like a battering ram against a door.
“Isn't it valuable? I thought… A four-legged gray bird vomited it up at my feet, and it made feel a little lucky.”
“What do you an? A bird of…?” Karla sniffed the jewel and wrinkled her nose in disgust. “A Farross? You an a Farross regurgitated a soul-jewel for you?”
An awkward silence briefly existed, only to be broken by the old woman's shrill, spontaneous laughter.
"Marvelous!"
"W-what?"
“A soul-jewel found in the least expected place is a clear sign that the Saint of Fortune is lending you a helping hand!” Karla celebrated, tossing the jewel across the fire, nearly making Tristessa fall on her ass in her eagerness to capture it in midair. “Keep it, it’s yours. Valdrek smiled at you, Tristessa Irandell; you have offered a sign of the influence of the angel I worship, and therefore the negotiation has turned out in your favor: in my eyes, you are not a witch of the Coven.”
Guided by their employer’s judgnt, the rcenaries sheathed their weapons and settled back into their seats, more than eager to continue with their nocturnal al. Reiden was the only exception, who simply crossed his arms and continued watching over the stunned girl, who seed unaware that she no longer had anything to fear from that traveling rchant’s group.
It was as if a small weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She let out a sigh of joy, and a beautiful smile spread across her face as she looked at that faintly shining jewel; that jewel that had just saved her life.
“Finally... A little luck," she thought, before stuffing the soul-jewel into one of the inside pockets of her trench-coat. In that movent, her fingers brushed the surface of her chest where his Baptism in Ruins resided: the supernatural cold remained there, patient, along with the feeling that sothing bad was going to happen while at the rcy of the Darkness. “...I hope I'm wrong.”
“Co and sit down, silly girl.” Distracting her, from the periter of the campfire, Dom held a clay plate full with a steaming stew that slled quite good, and was offering it to her. “If you don't eat dinner before you go to sleep, nightmares will co to you.”
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