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In The Mist Of The Erie Isles

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode Fourteen: A Lesson In Humility, Pt. 1

The shrill screams sting his ears, causing him to wince; they reverberate within his head. Boots thump atop the wooden beams as the soldiers move about the defenseless merchant ship. Helngarian warriors, all of them official soldiers for the Crown, steal chests of gold, spices, and most importantly, armaments. All of this is done under the orders of the new king, Vashalak. Steingar leaves a chest aboard his own galleon, before returning for the last of the treasure. Crossing the gangplank and boarding the sloop, which is roped to his own vessel, he freezes, struck by a horrific sight.

Several of his fellow soldiers strip off their lower garments, while others hold down various human and Falmun women. A Helngar warrior massages his manhood, preparing himself as he crawls on his knees between the legs of a terrified woman; two men, one on either side, keeps them spread. Their bound and gagged men are forced to watch, kneeling beside a nearby mast and struggling against their bindings as their captors laugh, sadistically enjoying their humiliation.

“Hey, keep moving! We're not done!" A soldier taps Steingar on the shoulder.

“Do you see what they're doing?!"

Steingar points toward the sexual assaults taking place in broad daylight, on the main deck of the victimized ship. His fellow soldier, who stands on the gangplank just behind him, leans over and watches. The Helngar seems to snicker as a woman screams and groans. The rapist has begun to enjoy her.

“Yeah. So?"

“So?! That's not right!" Steingar growls.

“What does it matter if it's right or not? We're going to kill them all afterward anyway. No witnesses, remember?" His comrade shrugs his shoulders.

“I joined the military to become a soldier, not a butcher!"

“That's the same thing, isn't it?"

“No, it isn't! What the hell is wrong with you people?!" Steingar growls.

The others take notice, furling their brows and cocking their heads.

“What's the matter, Steingar? Don't you like women?" A soldier chuckles.

“Is this the kind of evil you want perpetrated on your loved ones?!" Steingar poses.

“They aren't like us. What we would do to Helngar or Vizhek isn't at issue." Another soldier calmly retorts.

“The humans and Falmun might be inferior to us, but they still feel! I mean, listen to that!!!"

The men pause, hearing women crying as the rapes continue, unaltered by Steingar's pleading.

“Please... No more." A young woman begs.

“Sounds pretty tempting to me." A soldier smirks.

“You're disgusting. How dare you call yourself a Helngar!"

Enraged, Steingar raises his arquebus and fires a single round, shooting one of the rapists in the buttocks.

“Ow! Damnit! Oh no, I'm bleeding!" The panicked soldier whimpers.

“By the Seraphs, Steingar! What're you doing?!"

“That sounds like her, doesn't it?! Is that tempting to you?!" Steingar demands.

Storming up to him, Steingar's now unloaded rifle is torn from his clawed hands. A blue fist punches him in the jaw and knocks him to the ground. Turning his golden eyes up as he lay on his side, Steingar stares up at his Vizhek captain. The older man's short, golden hair flutters in the ocean breeze as he glares with his matching eyes.

“You... Are very lucky that you're a bloodforge... All of you, cease and desist!" The captain orders.

The other men finally stop, and several soldiers remove themselves from their female victims.

“This isn't a pleasure cruise. We have what we need, so kill them."

“But sir, what harm is there in letting the men release their stress?"

A ranking, Helngar soldier approaches, speaking rather sheepishly to the ship's captain. Without hesitation, the Vizheki captain turns, takes aim with a wheellock pistol and fires. Bang! The soldier falls dead, with a hole in his head.

“By the Seraphs!"

“Filthy animal... Can't even listen to basic commands..." The captain snickers. “Now then! ... Do not disobey direct orders! Throw his body overboard, kill the others and torch this damned ship! We're leaving!"

Rising from the ground, the women huddle pathetically on the floor. Soldiers swiftly execute their men with shots to the head, while those soldiers whose rifles are empty and haven't been reloaded use swords and knives to slash their throats. Bang! Bang! Bang! Men move down the line, shooting the victimized women in the face.

“No! Please! You all can have me! I won't fight! Just please don't-"

Bang! The round tears through the pleading woman's skull, killing her instantly. Steingar closes his eyes, feeling a rage swelling within him. He wasn't fond of his orders before, but now having carried them out, he wonders if he'll ever be able to live with himself. The Vizhek's large hand grips his fur covered bicep, urging him to stand. Steingar doesn't disobey his captain, and rises to his feet.

“I appreciate what you did, Steingar. For a Helngar, you showed me a startling amount of honor. You're a credit to your race, boy."

“Thank you, sir." Steingar speaks softly.

His captain casually wipes his palm on a pant leg after touching Steingar, as if brushing off a layer of filth. Without speaking another word, he makes his way back to his own ship, leaving Steingar to look over the carnage. The brain matter of the menfolk spills all over the ship's floor, and the images of the half-naked bodies of the abused and murdered women is burned into his mind. One woman, with a bullet through her face, is somehow still alive. She lifts an arm feebly into the air. She seems to silently plead for the Seraphs to save her. One of Steingar's comrades shows no mercy.

He kicks her arm aside, step on her bare chest and raises his Helngarian sabre. Closing his eyes, Steingar only hears the awful sounds as the soldier executes the woman, plunging the forward curved blade deeply into her chest and through her heart. The soldier tries to remove the blade, but it's caught on her bones. Yanking hard, he lifts her corpse a few centimeters from the floor, only for the tip of his sword to tap against the wood beams beneath her. Knock, knock, knock.

“Damnit. It's stuck!"

Knock, knock, knock. Steingar opens his eyes.

“Steingar? Are you up?" Irzain calls out to him. “Trellan wanted me to tell you, we're about to reach land."

Rising from his cot, Steingar shivers from the nightmarish memory that often torments him at night. Knock, knock, knock. He turns his weary eyes toward the door. Though a young man, he carries an old soul; a soldier's life can be very weathering.

“Steingar?!"

“I'm up, damnit! Stop doing that!"

“Oh, okay. Sorry. See you up top then?"

“Yeah, yeah..."

Rising to his feet, Steingar stretches his muscles. He glances toward the porthole, seeing the light trickling it. How long has he been asleep? Sitting on the edge of the cot, Steingar slips his feet into his new boots, before grabbing his vest from a nearby stool. He'd slept in most of his clothes, a habit birthed in the infantry; if he had a weapon, that'd be beside him as well. Opening his door, he steps into the hall, only to pause when he sees Irzain standing beside the opening.

“You were waiting for me?" Steingar raises a brow.

“Yeah."

“Making sure I fit in?"

“Something like that." Irzain grins.

“... Did Trellan ask you to?" Steingar sighs.

“No. Ready to go?"

Steingar nods his head. Standing on the main deck and leaning against the cabin wall, Jarae looks toward the starboard railing. Land is on the horizon, and most of the crew watch with eager anticipation. Irzain and Steingar pass her, equally intrigued by the new island. Jarae, however, has something else on her mind. With her narrowed, pink eyes, she glares at Valan, who stands beside Merna at the starboard bow. With their forearms against the fine, wooden railing, they seem to enjoy a conversation, smiling and laughing together. It stings the inside of her chest. For the past two days, the pair have grown increasingly close.

It began the very night they discovered the stowaway, hiding within a pile of pitania infused coal. After drowning his sorrows over his failings with Jarae, Merna helped Valan to his room. When he couldn't hold in the alcohol, she held his long, flowing hair as he released it, right into the chamber pot of his quarters. Jarae and the others were surprised to find that Valan's door was open the following morning. Even more shocking, inside was Merna, sitting on his cot and with Valan in her arms, petting the sleeping man's head as if he were a lap dog.

From that morning on, Valan treated Merna differently, being the only one aboard the Arona-Dahl who didn't look at her with suspicion. Considering that she was careful to collect and even clean his silver chalice before returning it, he had little reason to mistrust her. After waking up, he continued to spend his time with the Jaliscan stowaway, whose presence has only calmed the human. To everyone's surprise, the soft spoken and thoughtful Merna has even helped mend the broken fences between the crew.

At her suggestion, Valan approached Mairlynn, apologizing to her for what he'd said while intoxicated. Hugging the dainty elven woman, she forgave him, and when she nuzzled his neck and whispered something undoubtedly inappropriate into his ear, he didn't retaliate in anger. As the small elven woman passes Jarae, joining Valan and Merna across the deck, the pink-haired Jaliscan feels a powerful sensation. Why is she so jealous? She knows that she shouldn't be, but she simply cannot help herself. Now a trio, they stand near Kirsta, Irzain, and Steingar.

Merna has already begun building bridges between them as well. Only the night before, when they were nearing the island, Merna shared tales from before Jarae had joined Radiz's group. They'd island hopped as well, for nearly a year. She was friendly, jovial, and easy to talk to. She listened intently to Steingar's racist ramblings with a little smile, she managed to sympathize with Irzain and his amnesia, she gave polite tips to Mairlynn, after hearing her plight about her abysmal social and sexual life, and even found common ground with Kirsta, through her anecdotes about men.

She seems to be a perfectly adjusted, peaceable woman, but Jarae can almost feel the sadistic glee radiating from Merna, as she swiftly warms to the crew, alienating Jarae in the process. Irzain and Valan turn toward Merna, listening to something she says. Both men laugh at her remark, and even Mairlynn giggles. It cuts Jarae even deeper. As they grow closer and closer to land, they're able to see the stone structures of the town, just beyond the harbor. Everyone watches from the front of the ship, except for Trellan, who steers it, and Jarae.

Standing alone, the pink-haired Jaliscan, with her neutral colored fur, feels isolated. Glancing back, Valan smiles and waves to her, before motioning for her to approach him. Her heart skips a beat, and she briefly flashes a smile, before subduing it. She swiftly approaches him; she struggles to keep herself from running. She stands to his left and leans against the ship's railing. Valan leans forward, matching her movements. As he moves, Jarae can see Merna standing beside him, just to his right. She's close enough to slide her arm around his; she's surprised that she hasn't already, as close as they appear to be.

“Look at those beautiful buildings. I've missed brick buildings, and solid ground." Valan remarks.

“Me too." Jarae softly agrees.

“Do you prefer dry land, or are you getting used to being on a ship?" He turns to her.

“I don't know. I feel like I could live with both."

“Personally, I've always preferred land." Merna begins, resting a clawed hand on Valan's back. “It stable, comforting, and sheltering."

“Yeah."

“Kind of like you."

Merna's clawed fingers coil, softly scratching him. Valan's lips curl into a visible smile as he looks back at Merna. Jarae's heart sinks.

“Dry land can also be cold and hard. There are so many bad things that can happen on land, like forest fires and landslides." Jarae retorts, trying to interrupt their moment.

“I think I actually prefer the sea. Something about the waves is soothing to me, like being cradled." Irzain interjects.

“See?!" Jarae glares at Merna.

“To each their own." Merna smiles.

Trellan emerges from the pilothouse, walking down the steps that line either side of his cabin. He joins the others, startling Merna.

“Shouldn't you be steering us ashore?!"

“Arona can handle most of it on her own." He waves a hand dismissively. “When she needs me to bump the dock, then I'll take over."

“Oh..." Merna looks unnerved.

“It's alright." Valan rests a hand on her upper arm. “Trellan built this ship; he knows what he's talking about."

“Okay. I trust you."

She smiles warmly, and steps closer to Valan. She seems to worm her way beneath his arm. Few give it a second glance; she's been warming up to Valan ever since the first night, the night she'd comforted him when he was drunk.

“What island is this, anyway?" Mairlynn wonders.

“It's Parak, isn't it? That's what I heard Trellan say." Kirsta replies.

“Yeah, it's Parak." Trellan nods, resting his hands on the railing.

“I've been there once, for shore leave." Steingar remarks.

“Was it nice?" Mairlynn asks.

“It's... A place." Steingar sighs.

“What's that supposed to mean?" Irzain raises an eyebrow.

“He means it's awful." Jarae snickers, shaking her head at Irzain's ignorance.

“It's not awful, it's just not nice... It's mostly humans and Falmun, with a ruling elite, all of whom are Vizhek, of course. I remember there being a lot of racial tension. We had at least two fights with the locals. We won them all, of course, as inferior as they are! No offense."

“None taken."

A frustrated Valan shakes his head, while Kirsta rolls her eyes. Even Mairlynn feels repulsed by his remark, stepping away from Steingar.

“Our humans and Mairlynn should fit right in, but uh... Well, the rest of us might be better served staying aboard the ship." Steingar warns.

“You're worried about our safety?" Jarae wonders.

“I could go. I just don't feel like fighting humans today." Steingar smugly grins. “You two strays might want to hang back, though."

“Oh. I-I said I'd leave when..."

“Hey." Valan turns to Merna, resting a hand on her shoulder. “If this isn't a good place for you, we won't leave you here. Will we?"

He looks to the others, but they can tell from his tone and his expression that he isn't asking.

“I would hope not." Irzain speaks up.

“My conscience wouldn't let me sleep at night." Trellan adds.

“Damn..." Jarae whispers to herself.

“See? It's alright." Valan smiles.

“Oh, thank you!"

Merna steps closer, pushing her ample bust against Valan's chest, and burying herself in his warmth. He wraps his arms around her, giving her a hug. It's rather benign but it's willing, and everyone can see it. Jarae's upper lip curls at the left side of her short snout; she feels herself impulsively snarling.

“Who says we can't go ashore?!" She growls.

“Steingar. He was a Crown soldier, and he's been here before." Irzain answers.

“I'd heed a former bloodforge warrior's recommendations, especially when it comes to matters of security." Kirsta adds.

“I'm still a bloodforge." Steingar grumbles. “Helngar do not lose their titles, not the way others can; I'm not a soldier anymore, but I'll always be bloodforge."

“Whatever." Jarae scoffs.

“Yeah, relax, big guy." Mairlynn shakes her head.

“Perhaps we could still go ashore?" Merna speaks softly.

“How would you manage that?" Kirsta asks.

“We could play act!" Merna chirps.

“Oh... I don't know if I want to do that again." Valan murmurs.

“We'll do good! I promise! I don't mind doing it, to back you up, and I know Jarae is a wonderful actress!" Merna insists, speaking directly to Valan.

“Yeah, we know." Mairlynn snickers.

“... What would you pretend to be?" Valan hesitantly asks.

“We could be personal slaves! I'll pretend to be your slave, and Jarae could be Irzain's."

“Are you comfortable with that?!" Valan wonders, a look of grave concern on his face.

“I'm not!" Jarae growls. “I'm no one's slave!"

“The Jaliscan were the last race to be emancipated in the Isles, but let's not pretend that it doesn't still happen. If we want to go ashore, what better way to blend in than as the property of our humans?"

“It makes sense." Trellan reluctantly agrees.

“That would actually pass quite easily!" Steingar nods.

“Fine... But we'll both be Valan's slaves!" Jarae barks.

“... You will?!" Valan appears disturbed, glancing between the two Jaliscan women.

“Y-yeah... Irzain isn't the type to own slaves. I don't think he could pull it off." Jarae hastily explains.

“True!" Irzain chuckles.

“I'm not either..."

“Please?" Merna coos.

Staring deeply into his eyes, she rests her hands on his sides, giving him a little squeeze. She moves even closer and pushes her chest against his, smooshing her ample breasts between them. Her short snout and feline nose hover only inches away from his. A perpetual, innocent smile is spread across her face, and her tail sways so elegantly behind her. Her shimmering, blue eyes scan his face, and as he slips a single arm around her slender body, she seems to melt in his embrace.

“I just don't like the idea of letting you and the others go alone. It would be good to stick together as often as possible. Everything will be alright, Val. It's only an act." She speaks so sweetly.

“... Fine." He sighs.

Merna's smile grows wider; she flashes her pearly white teeth.

“But this is a bad idea." He adds.

“Agreed." Kirsta interjects. “But she's right about one thing; the more eyes we have with us, the safer we'll be."

Withdrawing the gangplank, the group leaves the Arona-Dahl behind. The two teams reach land, separating at the docks. Kirsta leads Irzain and Mairlynn, while the two Jaliscan women walk on either side of Valan, following him like the loyal slaves they're pretending to be. Wandering through the eastern side of town, the two humans and the dainty Falmun go unnoticed, though Irzain keeps his hood up, just in case. The town is surprisingly quiet, with few people walking the streets. Even the few vendor carts alongside the streets are empty, with no one selling their wares. The few who are out and about don't make eye contact and seem hesitant to speak to the trio. They wander for over an hour, just looking for someone who will acknowledge them. Reaching a market that appears closed, the group stands frustrated before the locked door.

“Well? ... Now what?" Mairlynn asks.

Glancing across the street, they see a tavern. Through the blue-tinted windows, they can see a few patrons sitting inside. With nothing else to do, the trio make their way across the street.

“Hey, no kids in here!" The older, human barkeep remarks to the three strangers.

“I'm not a kid!" Mairlynn snaps back, lifting her hair to reveal her pointy, elven ears.

“Bullshit!"

“It's true. She's older than me." Kirsta smirks.

“... Really?!"

All three of them nod their heads, taking seats on stools before the bar.

“Wow... Uh, okay then. Sorry!"

“It's alright. It happens... A lot." Mairlynn sighs.

“Yeah, I bet." He chuckles. “So, what's it going to be?"

“Ale." Kirsta and Mairlynn both reply.

“Soft cider." Irzain answers.

“... Ooookay."

The barkeep collects three pewter mugs, filling them with their requested drinks.

“You three aren't locals, are you?"

“Nope." Irzain responds.

“Yeah, I figured. You should keep an eye on her." The barkeep remarks, glancing toward Kirsta. “Both of them, honestly, but her especially."

“I can take care of myself." Kirsta growls.

“Yeah, every woman says that." The barkeep scoffs.

“Why you old-"

“Easy!" Irzain rests a hand on her forearm. “What makes you say that, sir?"

Leaning against the counter, the grizzled human narrows his eyes.

“We got us a killer running around. That's why I said that."

“A killer?!" Mairlynn gasps.

“Yep! He's snatching up beautiful women, and even the pretty younglings! Considering your human friend's... Noticeable features..." The bartender glances at Kirsta's ample breasts. “And how your Falmun friend looks like a cute, thirteen-year-old kid... Better safe than sorry, right?"

“Is that why it's so quiet?" Irzain wonders.

“That's why. This town wasn't always like this; people would sell their wares, the streets were lined with vendors and aside from those posh, Vizhek assholes coming down to annoy us, life was pretty good! Family walking about, kids playing, pretty women to admire. Ah, those were the day! ... But then about six weeks ago, a teenage girl went missing. A few days later, a young woman, and a pretty one, too! After the third body was found four weeks ago, people stopped going outside and letting their daughters and young wives wander. We've lost seven women in six weeks, and the ones we find aren't as pretty as they were before, so I implore you, stay together while you're here, and get out quick."

“What about the market across the street?" Kirsta asks.

“Oh... Yeah... They, uh... They found their daughter four weeks ago, and now it's only open sporadically."

Sitting at the bar, they drink their beverages before leaving their empty mugs and a few copper vasariks for the barkeep. Wandering the streets, they make their way to the northern end. As before, the entire town is quiet. The few citizens they pass by seem nervous, even downright terrified. It's clear that they're all haunted by the shadow of evil that dwells amongst them. Irzain pauses, looking down a narrow street as he watches a vendor. She leans against a wooden booth, with a cart of provisions nearby. Two men, who look related to her, stand guard over the pretty, young woman. Not realizing that he's stopped, Kirsta and Mairlynn continue walking.

“Maybe we should just go back." Mairlynn sighs.

“Give up, so soon?!"

“We're not really getting anywhere, and I don't need the exercise. I'm small enough as it is."

“Toning those chicken legs of yours might help, though. You can chase them down better." Kirsta chuckles.

“That's true! I don't want them getting away." The elf giggles. “Still, I vote we head back. What do you think, Irzain? ... Irzain?!"

The women stop dead in their tracks as they discover that Irzain isn't with them.

“Where the hell has that imbecile gone to?!" Kirsta growls.

“We should really get him a leash and collar." Mairlynn remarks.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?" The human snickers.

“A woman can dream." The dainty elf winks.

“We'd better go find him, before he gets confused and winds up on another crew."

Retracing their steps, they walk along the streets, looking to and fro for their missing companion. Glancing down a long and narrow street, they spot him speaking to a female merchant and her two human guards, quite a distance away.

“What's that stupid little sh-"

“Pardon me!" A deep voice interrupts Kirsta.

Spinning around, both women look directly at the chest of a towering Vizheki man. Turning their eyes up to him, Mairlynn is forced to tilt her head back; her wavy, golden hair falls away from her face, revealing her elven ears. She covers her brow with a hand, shading her ruby eyes from the evening sun.

“Oh! You're Falmun! Wonderful!" The Vizhek chirps.

“Yeah. Who're you?"

“I'm Mortelan. I, and my two brothers, Torvelan and Brok, run a hotel."

“Brok?" Kirsta raises an eyebrow.

“Adopted brother... Anyway! We've been preparing our luxury hotel for the past seven weeks."

Reaching into a small, brown pouch that hangs from his belt, Mortelan retrieves a slip of paper.

“Seven weeks?! What's taking you so long?" Mairlynn wonders.

“Just preparing. It's our first business venture, and as a gesture, we'd like to extend our services to you two, fine, young women."

The golden-haired elven man, with light blue skin, hands the slip to Kirsta. She reaches out, grasping the paper; he strokes her flesh softly with his fingertips as she pulls away. Looking up at him, she feels an uneasiness about her.

“You can stay in our honeymoon suite, free of charge."

“Why would you do that for us?" Mairlynn asks.

“Advertising! You two stay at our hotel for free, sharing your wonderful experience, and every else won't hesitate to shell out a hundred vasariks a night." Mortelan smiles, shifting his gaze toward the little Falmun.

“Wow! A hundred a night; it must be very fancy!" Mairlynn chirps.

“Oh, it is. It's very special."

He speaks softly, resting a hand atop the small woman's shoulder. Her smile widens as she feels his fingers gently massaging her, his thumb brushing her jawline so carefully.

“Just like you." He coos.

“Aww!" Mairlynn flushes.

“Well, uh... We'll think about it." A disturbed Kirsta murmurs.

“The location is on the voucher. It's good for a night, and I certainly hope we have the pleasure of your-"

Mortelan pauses, furling his brow as his attention shifts.

“I think I found what we're looking for!" Irzain chirps.

“Oh, I didn't realize you had a male companion."

“Is that a problem?" Kirsta asks.

“Uh, n-no. The more, the merrier, I suppose..."

Kirsta watches as Mortelan eyes the voucher he'd handed her, before shifting his attention to Irzain. With a perturbed expression, the six foot and eight-inch-tall elf pulls an ornate, golden artifact from around his neck. It's an expensive and rare, handmade drum clock. He looks at the base of the cylindrical, golden watch, glancing at the simple, single dial of the spring-powered device.

“My, look at the time! I really must be going!"

Without saying another word, the Vizhek turns and walks away. He seems to grumble to himself, muttering something incoherent as he swiftly departs.

“What was that about?" Irzain wonders.

“I don't know." Kirsta mutters. “So, you found a merchant?"

“Yeah. She doesn't sell pitania infused coal, or even regular coal; she resells her family's harvest. Mostly wheat and cheese."

“Cheese?!" Mairlynn's face lights up.

“Uh-huh. She has swiss."

“Swiss?! Well, let's go make a deal!"

“What about Valan and the others?" Irzain asks.

“We haven't seen them." Kirsta answers.

“Well, she'll be open for a little while longer. Should we just-"

“Less talk, more walk." Mairlynn waves them along.

“But what about meeting with the others? Shouldn't we tell them what happened and enlist them first?"

“Yeah, that's the plan." Kirsta interjects.

“Plans change. We can catch them up later."

“You don't even want to check on Valan?" Irzain teases.

“I'm sure him and his pets are just fine."

Knock, knock, knock. Standing before a door, Valan raps his knuckles against the wooden barrier. He looks over his shoulder, glancing back at his two companions. Merna smiles so warmly at him, her tail swishing happily behind her, while Jarae looks concerned, her posture serious and her tail hanging somewhat limply.

“Are you sure this is the place?" He asks them.

“Yes, Master." Merna grins.

“I think so."

“I mean, that shopkeeper wasn't in the mood to talk; he spoke awfully fast. Did we misunderstand?"

“This is where he said they live. This should be the blacksmith's house, Master." Merna assures him.

“Alright... And don't call me that."

Sighing, Valan knocks again. A moment later, the door's latch clicks; someone unlocks it and lifts it out of place. The door slowly swings open. Standing before them is a middle-aged human, with a disheveled appearance. His messy, black hair doesn't appear to have been combed in days, and bags line his tired eyes. A woman sitting inside the home, just within their view, rests her face in her hands and weeps. The sight disturbs the trio, who stand frozen before the tradesman.

“... What?"

“I-I'm sorry, but... Are you the blacksmith?" Valan asks.

“Yeah. The shop's closed for a reason." He grumbles.

“We understand that, and we apologize." Merna swiftly interjects.

“We were just looking for a source of pitania." Jarae adds.

“Did you want the powder?" The blacksmith asks.

“Infused coal, if you have it."

“... I'm sorry. I can't help you."

The blacksmith tries to close the door, but Valan presses his palm against it.

“Please!"

“Look, damnit, I'm too busy to help three strangers! Now move your mitts from my door or-"

“Della! Oh, my poor Della!" The woman wails.

She slides from her seat and falls to the floor, kneeling atop the wooden beams before slumping onto her side. Lying in the fetal position, the woman's sobbing grows ever louder. Instantly forgetting about the three strangers before his door, the blacksmith rushes to her aid.

“My poor baby girl! Where are you?!"

“Shh, it's alright, my love. Everything will be alright."

“No, it won't. I want my daughter back!"

“I do, too. It's going to be okay."

He speaks very tenderly, scooping her up and into his arms as he sits on the floor. The human and his female, Jaliscan companions look to each other before slowly pushing open the door. They step inside, watching as the blacksmith cradles the woman in his arms. She's clearly around his age, and is obviously his wife. Tears stream from her reddened eyes, creating a river of saline that runs toward the floor. The blacksmith shifts his attention to the strangers, but his expression isn't that of anger; he too looks as though he's about to cry.

“Look, just... Please leave." The blacksmith sniffles.

“I'm sorry. Is there anything we can do?" Valan asks.

Looking him over, the blacksmith turns his eyes away and shakes his head.

“What's even going on?" Jarae wonders.

“Oh, my poor baby." The woman sobs.

“Our eldest daughter... She went missing." The blacksmith begins.

“When was this?" Valan asks.

“Two days ago. Women have been going missing lately and... Ours makes seven..."

The blacksmith pauses, taking a deep breath. With his eyes closed tightly, and his bottom lip quivering as he exhales, it's obvious that he's fighting back the tears of heartache.

“They're running away?" Merna suggests.

“No! They're dead!" The woman yelps through her tears.

“We just... We miss her, so much."

“Daddy?"

The trio turn at the sound of a soft but squeaky voice. Standing in a doorway and wearing a simple but flowing gown is a young girl. She appears about twelve or thirteen, and looks fearfully at the strangers.

“Is everything alright?" The girl asks.

“We're alright, sweetheart." The blacksmith assures her.

Valan stares at the girl, who bears a striking resemblance to another woman from his past. He looks back at the child's parents and approaches, dropping down to a knee. The younger girl slowly steps back, before turning around and retreating to her room. He glances back, then turns toward her father.

“What's your daughter's name?"

“Her or? ..."

“The missing one."

“Della." The blacksmith speaks softly.

“Della... That's a pretty name." Valan smiles.

“Yes. It fits her. She's a beautiful young woman... That wasn't always such a curse." The father hangs his head. “Our youngest is so much like her older sister."

“It hurts so much to see her. I look at her and I see a young Della." The mother sniffles.

Valan looks back at his two companions. To his surprise, both of them seem disconnected to the suffering of the parents, who huddle so pitifully together on their floor. Even Merna, as sweet as she is, doesn't appear affected by their misery. Troubled by their silent callousness, Valan turns his head. He reaches out, resting a hand on the blacksmith's shoulder, gaining his attention.

“What if we helped you?" He asks the parents.

“Why would you do that?" The blacksmith looks perplexed.

“Because your daughter reminds me of someone I knew, and no one helped her..."

“If you could find her, even if it was just..." The blacksmith closes his eyes again, and takes another deep breath, struggling against the tears. “I would be eternally in your debt."

“No, you wouldn't." Valan shakes his head.

“Who are you?" The mother asks.

“Just a traveler." He smiles.

“And we're his slaves!" Jarae cheerfully interjects.

Valan hangs his head and sighs, before slowly looking back at her.

“Er... When did you last see your daughter?" Merna asks, diverting the parent's attention.

“She was walking to a market near the northeastern side of town." The father begins.

“Yes! Klora's market, near vendor's alley!" The mother adds.

“Alright then. We'll be back."

Valan pats the father's shoulder before rising to his feet. He motions to the Jaliscan women, urging them to follow him. They leave the home, and Jarae closes the door behind them. They walk down the cobblestone streets, moving east.

“Should we really be doing this?" Jarae wonders.

“Yeah, this wasn't really the plan." Merna adds.

“What do you suggest then?"

“We should go back to the ship. We should tell them what we're doing, or at least what you want to do." Jarae suggests.

“I agree. Let's not run around without telling the others." Merna adds.

“Alright, fine... Let's go back." Valan reluctantly concedes.