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In The Mist Of The Erie Isles

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode Eighteen: A Fistful Of Vasariks, Pt. 2

Walking through the streets and making their way toward the west side of town, Irzain, Kirsta, Mairlynn and Trellan look for Steingar and Jarae. Stopping a few random citizens, they asked for directions to the Romos manor, claiming to have heard that it was a sight to behold. Though surprised by their request, the townsfolk they'd stopped obliged them, steering them toward the stone mansion. Keeping their eyes peeled for any sign of their missing companions, Irzain begins to worry. Steingar and Valan, given their skills, can likely take care of themselves; his true concern is for Jarae.

She was clearly disturbed by Valan's behavior, even before they'd reached the island. Her refusal to open up to Irzain, who only wanted to help her, makes him worry for her mental state. He's never seen her in action, either; for all he knows, her one and only marketable skill is being a tavern wench. With so many rifleman, swordsman and archers in town, that might not be enough to save her. As they wander the streets, making their way closer and closer to the mansion, Irzain keeps his head on a swivel. However, the town, and likely the entire island, is void of any Jaliscan inhabitants.

The group turns a corner, following the cobblestone streets. In the distance, they can see a fountain in a large square. It's similar, if not identical to, the fountain that sits before the Braka's manor. Emerging from a wrought iron gate attached to a tall, stone wall, Steingar leaves the courtyard of a grand and elegant home. Only a portion of the building can be seen from their vantage point, however, the Helngar sticks out like a sore thumb; it's obvious that it's the Romos' manor. Turning toward them and heading down the street, Steingar spots the group from some distance away.

He picks up his pace, moving away from the mansion and down the street, glancing over his shoulder several times as he closes the distance between himself and his companions. Mairlynn raises an arm and prepares to shout at him, but Trellan grabs onto her shoulder, distracting her. She turns her head and looks up at him. The old Vizhek merely shakes his head.

“What are you doing here?" Steingar quietly asks them.

“Looking for you." Kirsta replies.

“And Jarae." Irzain adds.

“Are you alright?" Trellan asks.

“Yeah, I'm fine." Steingar assures them.

“It's good to see you." Mairlynn grins.

Stepping forward, she gives the Helngar a hug. To Steingar's surprise, she doesn't make a single attempt to brush against his crotch or fondle his manhood. With a wave of his hand, Steingar urges them to follow him, leading them away from the manor and deeper into the town. As they make their way toward the town center, he fills them in on the plan that he and Valan had come up with. They'd hatched their little scheme almost immediately after Irzain abandoned them in the inn, when he'd left to warn the others back on the Arona-Dahl. Though he speaks clearly and concisely, they all seem to have trouble understanding him.

“I'm sorry... Can you run this by me again?" Trellan asks.

“Yeah, I'm not quite following." Kirsta adds.

With a frustrated sigh, Steingar leads the group into a quiet alley, making sure that no one is watching them before speaking.

“It's really not that complicated." He begins. “First, Valan picked a fight with some of the Romos' men, just so he could gun them down and seek shelter with the Brakas. By allowing himself to be seen, both killing said men and entering their manor, the Romos would think that he was either a hired gun sent to do the deed, or was at least being harbored by their rival. Next, I found the Romos brothers at their manor and offer my services as a mercenary. Considering my superior breed and my experience as a warrior, they'd be fools not to accept.

Once we've both joined the two families, we learn the layouts of their homes and where they store their valuables, all while working as new and expensive goons; I've already been paid for my services. We let the families escalate their little war, possibly even helping them along with misinformation and rumors, then, when the blood and smoke is at its peak, we grab what we can, escape, and meet up at the docks. Considering the bad blood between the Brakas and Romos, it shouldn't be more than a few days."

They groups stands stunned. Hearing their plot for the second time doesn't make it any easier to accept.

“Are you serious?" Irzain chokes out.

“A robbery?! That's your big plan?!" A wide-eyed Kirsta shakes her head in disbelief.

“This sounds like a terribly complex and dangerous scheme." Mairlynn nervously remarks.

“This isn't just some robbery. These families are loaded. One job that rips them both off and we can afford to keep going long after he's gone." Steingar points a clawed finger at Irzain. “This will benefit everyone, unlike this stupid quest to cure the amnesia of a human with the highest bounty I've ever seen. Now, get out of my way. We shouldn't be seen together until this is over."

Pushing past the others, the Helngar makes his way out of the alley. He looks to the left and to the right, then begins walking, heading back to the inn where all of this started. Irzain pops out of the alley, still seeking the answer to one last question.

“Wait! What about Jarae?!"

“I haven't seen her. Why don't you ask the other human? I'm sure his pet is probably sniffing around for him." Steingar answers, never once looking back or slowing his pace.

“Well... What now?" Mairlynn asks.

“It doesn't look like there's anything we can do." Kirsta replies.

“I'm inclined to agree. Our hands are tied, and Steingar and Valan are responsible. We'll simply have to see this through." Trellan adds.

“Wait, we're just going to sit here?!" Irzain gasps.

“We're still going to make it to Bremen. This is just going to take some time. Be patient." The old Vizhek grumbles.

“That's not what I'm worried about. How selfish do you think I am?"

“I don't know. We haven't known each other long enough." Trellan remarks.

“Can't we do something about this? These two are going to get themselves killed, and what about Jarae? She's one of us, too, and no one seems to care that she's missing!" Irzain pleads with them.

“It's not that we don't care." Mairlynn begins.

“We just don't know what to do." Kirsta finishes.

“Here... Stay behind if you'd like; rent a room, keep an eye on them, and for the Seraph's sake, keep your hood up. We don't know if there are any bounty hunters here that might recognize you."

As Trellan speaks, he takes some vasariks from his own coin purse, handing them to Irzain.

“This is the best we can do; it isn't much, but at least it's something."

“Thanks. I'll watch them diligently." Irzain murmurs.

Leaving him behind, Trellan, Kirsta and Mairlynn return to the Arona-Dahl, while Irzain stands in street, pondering their predicament. He wanders the cobblestone roads for some time, mapping out the area between the two manors in his mind. Standing before the inn where he, Steingar and Valan originally sat for a drink, he hesitates to enter. If Steingar is staying here, the last thing he wants to do is blow his cover by being seen with him again. Continuing to wander between the manors, Irzain eventually finds another inn, near the Braka's home. It is, in fact, directly across the square from the wooden mansion.

To his silent elation, the room Irzain rents is on the second floor, overlooking the square and its fountain. More than that, the perpendicular room sees a considerable portion of the Braka's fenced-in courtyard and much of the manor. He sits in his room for hours, contemplating every possible scenario and every possible outcome. None of them seem favorable to the middle-aged human. Eventually, the sky darkens as storm clouds roll in. Feeling the hunger in his stomach, Irzain purchases a meal and a pitcher of ale, taking them up to his room. Rain begins to fall, and with the rain the townsfolk take shelter, all except for the Brakas.

To Irzain's surprise, many of the Brakas make their way into the courtyard. Valan, who seems to fit in with them as if he'd always been there, takes a seat near an older human and a middle-aged Falmun woman, likely the older man's wife. Beside him sits the young and beautiful half-breed he'd seen showing Valan to a bedroom on the third floor. She giggles and sits close to the gunman, who seems to appeal to her with whatever it is he's saying. Irzain can't hear them over the falling rain, but sitting beneath a canopy in the courtyard, he can at least watch them, and keep an eye on Valan.

Nearly finished with his meal, Irzain takes a swig of ale. He's shocked to see some of the Braka's men setting up targets at the far end of the courtyard. Drawing his custom-built pistols, Valan enters the rain, which continues to fall with considerable weight. As the storm grows stronger, the long-haired, bearded human speaks loudly to his hosts, showing off his firearms. From his distance and through the storm, Irzain is barely able to make him out. What could he be saying?

“And it's because of these brass caps, which I like to call 'ignition caps', that my special pistols are impervious to the elements! If I could contain the powder charge and ball into a single unit, we may one day even be able to fire underwater!" Valan boasts.

“Are you serious?!" Mozafia raises an eyebrow.

“Impossible!" Bolum laughs.

“Come out of the rain, before you catch your death!" Lucerna urges him.

“Just watch!"

Turning around, Valan takes careful aim at a target. The rainfall is so intense that it makes it difficult for him to see the straw bales with cloth bullseyes at the far end of the courtyard, which are also placed out of the accurate range of conventional pistols.

“It's a good thing there's a wall and a hill there! When you miss, we won't have to worry about innocents dying!" Bolum jovially snorts.

Valan's hair sticks to his face, the cold rain cascading over his head like a river. With both eyes open, he takes a deep breath, his finger caressing the brass trigger. He gently and slowly squeezes. Bang! The Braka family are stunned. Lowering his spent pistol, he takes aim with the second. He fully cocks the hammer of his silver and black accented pistol, which is decorated to oppose his black and silver accented pistol. Again, he squeezes the brass trigger. Bang! Lowering that weapon as well, he glances back, smiling rather smugly at the Brakas.

“Well, they fire! Too bad you couldn't have hit them from here!" Bolum continues to laugh.

Returning to the shelter of the gazebo, Valan takes a seat near Lucerna.

“You're all wet!" She exclaims, a look of concern on her face.

“One of these days, I'll figure out a way to fire more than one shot from a pistol before reloading." Valan remarks, ignoring her statement entirely.

“Shall I fetch the targets, sir?" A loyal servant asks.

“Yes, please. I'd like to be amused." Bolum replies.

Racing out and into the rain, the servant brings back a straw target. To the amazement of everyone, especially Bolum, there are two holes in the cloth sheets that're stuck to the straw bales. Both holes are nearly dead-center.

“H-how... How did you make that shot?!" Bolum gasps.

“Trade secret." Valan grins.

“Oh, come now. You can leave out the nitty-gritty; I'm just curious if I'm dealing with a magic user or not."

“I've never seen magic make bullets shoot straight, though I have seen bullets kill magicians." Valan retorts.

“True. That doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Is it magic, Valan?"

“No..." Valan takes up his silver and black accented pistol, admiring it for a moment. “It's certainly not magic."

“Then enlighten us." Mozafia politely interjects.

“Special grooves are cut into the barrel. Originally, this was to prevent my beautiful pistols from fouling, but as I had to cut with a twist, the groves are spiraled. As it turns out, a spinning bullet is far more stable. In order to make them function better, I then changed their shape; my bullets aren't balls, but more like... Stubby needles, but much fatter and with rounded tips. I can accurately hit a moving target at thirty-yards with these pistols."

“Well, I'll admit to being impressed!" Bolum chirps.

“Ooohh! Smart and handsome." Lucerna coos.

Valan can't help but smile at her remark. Raising a brow, Bolum sits up in his chair. He glares at his daughter, before turning his attention toward his new gunman.

“Well... I'd say that's enough for the day. It'll be dark soon. Get some sleep." He grumbles.

“Of course." Valan bows his head respectfully to his employer.

Rising from her chair, Lucerna reaches out and takes hold of Valan's hand. She leads him from beneath the gazebo, through a patch of rain and back into the manor, all while her mother and father carefully watch them. Making their way up to the third floor, Lucerna's pace slows. She pauses as they near Valan's room.

“D-do you have any other clothes?" She sheepishly asks.

“No, actually." Valan replies, looking down at his soaked, purple shirt and black trousers.

“Oh! Then please, follow me!"

Taking him back down the hall, she leads Valan into a small room. The shelves are lined with bed linens and dried clothes, folded neatly and awaiting delivery. It's clearly a laundry and oversized linen closet. She turns back and eyes Valan's body. Her lips curl into a little smile as her rosy eyes take in his form. She looks away, only to dig through a bin of simple linens.

“These should do for now. They're what we give out servants, but I won't make you wear them for long; I'll dry your clothes ri-"

She stops mid-sentence as she turns back. Her eyes widen as she stares at Valan, who's stripped off his shirt. A thumb is slipped behind his waistband, but he doesn't remove his pants. Instead, he watches her expectantly. Her smile grows and Lucerna flushes, her eyes staring at the bulge in his pants.

“See something you like?" He teasingly asks, stepping closer.

“I-I-I, uhm... I d-don't..." She stammers.

Unable to resist the adorable young woman, who grows more nervous with each passing minute, he reaches out and rests a hand on her cheek. She trembles at his touch and stumbles backward, pushed against an iron tub used to wash clothes. Her eyes narrow as her breath shakes, and Lucerna leans closer. It's clear to him that she's expecting a kiss, and for some reason, he feels obliged to give it to her. Softly caressing her lips with his own, he kisses her with a hint of true passion. She moves closer, kissing him back on her own volition. As they kiss for a second time, his eyes widen. Lucerna's hand grabs his bulge, stroking his endowed manhood through his trousers.

“Oh!" She gasps, her face turning as red as a poinsettia. “It feels... Big."

“I've been told that I'm substantial." He grins.

“D-does it feel good?" She shyly asks.

“... What?" He raises a brow.

“I-I've n-n-never... I mean... Having a man's... Inside..."

Valan steps back, feeling considerable shock, as well as guilt.

“You're... A virgin?!" He can't help but gasp.

“I'm sorry!" She grows increasingly embarrassed.

“Don't be sorry."

“I've heard that it hurts, but only at first... D-does it feel good?"

Her innocent tone suddenly takes on different connotations; she's not just a cute tease. At nineteen, she's genuinely inexperienced and nervous. It weighs on the thirty-one-year-old Valan, who realizes that given a few more years, he could be her father. Reaching out, he takes the shirt from her. Lucerna steps closer, groping him once more.

“D-does it get bigger? ... Could... Could you show me?"

Reaching down, he takes hold of her wrist, moving her hand away from his crotch. He shifts, just as he feels himself beginning to stiffen.

“You're a sweet girl, and I appreciate the clothes." He says with a warm smile.

“Oh... Oh, no! I'm sorry! I thought you... I mean! ... By the Seraphs, I'm so embarrassed." Lucerna panics.

“It's alright." He assures her.

“I hoped you were interested. I mean! ... I thought!" She flushes, somehow becoming even redder.

“Lucerna..."

He pauses, resting a hand on her shoulder as he struggles with something to say. Surely, there's some combination of words that'll make this less awkward and allow him to extricate himself before he loses his self-control. The Seraph's know what he'd rather do; Valan would love nothing more than to enjoy the virginal Lucerna, but his conscience haunts him. Sex is supposed to mean something more, or at least it should. He opens his mouth and takes a breath, fighting with his words.

“... Have a good night."

With that, he leaves the horrified and embarrassed Lucerna in the linen room, returning to his own at the end of the hall. As he opens the door, he turns and glances out of the open shutter, viewing the world beyond the manor's walls. To his surprise, Irzain stands on a covered balcony, attached to a small inn across the square. The older human watches him intently. It gives Valan pause. Maybe he should try and leave? After a moment, he enters his room and closes the door. With his new, dry clothes on, Valan explores the room more thoroughly. Inside of a wardrobe, he finds a weatherproof, canvas cloak.

Slipping on the cloak and raising the hood, he opens a shuttered window and looks outside. To his surprise, the room would be relatively easy to escape. Curved, clay tiles line the roof of the second floor, which are just outside of his bedroom window. Below them are the tiles for the first floor's roof; Valan could walk to the corners and make his way down, using drainage pipes to climb back up, should he feel the need. With darkness falling, and the rain covering the sounds of his escape, Valan exits the bedroom and makes his way slowly down to the ground floor, inadvertently imitating the burglar that Irzain had seen the previous night.

Making his way through the darkening streets, Valan makes his way back to the inn where he'd sat with Steingar and Irzain. While he knows Irzain won't be there, perhaps Steingar will? Perhaps Steingar can talk him out of this dangerous and risky plan that they've decided to undertake? In truth, Valan simply wants to speak to someone, anyone, whom he's familiar with. It's all that will ease him at the moment. Entering the inn, he sees only a single patron sitting in a corner. The hooded figure turns their head, but otherwise seems to ignore him. Approaching the bar, the same man stands and waits, cleaning a mug with a rag.

“Wow... Don't you ever leave?!" Valan chuckles.

“Nice to see you too." The barkeep smirks. “I live in the back room, though, so no."

“Huh..."

“What'll it be?"

“Is uh... Is that Helngar here by any chance?"

“The one you were with? No." The barkeep shakes his head. “The Romos came and picked him up. Didn't really give him an option."

“Shit..."

“Whatever you have going on, just... Try not to bloody up my place, alright?" The barkeep urges, leaning against the counter.

“Okay." Valan sighs.

“So, what'll it be?"

“Ale, I guess..."

“Coming right up!"

Moving away from the bar, Valan can hear footfalls, but from another set of feet. Soft and delicate, he turns in his stool, reaching for a pistol only to remember that he's left both of them unloaded. He removes his hand immediately, however, when the only other patron sits beside him, pulling their hood away with their clawed hands.

“Hello."

“Merna?!" He gasps.

“I'm surprised you haven't left yet. What're you still doing here? ... Come to find me?" She asks sweetly, leaning closer to him.

“Not quite." He mutters.

The barkeep returns with Valan's ale, placing it on the counter before heading for the far end of the bar, to continue cleaning the mugs.

“Then what's keeping you here?" She cocks her head.

“Things..."

“What kind of things?"

“Job things..."

“... Are you mad at me?"

“Why would I be mad at you?" He sighs in frustration.

“Because I used you to hurt Jarae? I mean, we had sex six times in a week."

The barkeep pauses, overhearing their conversation.

“I used you for my own, selfish reasons... And also for pleasure! I even led you to believe that I wanted a relationship with you. I'd be mad if it were me." She continues.

“Well, I'm not."

“Good! So... Did you want to come up to my room, then?"

Glancing over at her, she flutters her eyelashes so innocently, smiling warmly and leaning even closer. With a stinging sensation in his chest, he shakes his head. Lifting the pewter mug, he takes a swig of his drink.

“For what it's worth, I really am sorry. You're a sweet guy, and I normally don't like hurting sweet guys; your type is far too rare."

“I said it's fine, now drop it." He grumbles, setting the mug atop the counter.

“Okay." She murmurs.

“So, what're you still doing here? I thought you wanted to head back to the mainland."

“Oh, I do! I just needed to make travel arrangements and come up with the coin. I found a captain who was already heading to the mainland, so for a modest fee, he said he'd let me aboard." She chirps.

“And how many times do you need to sleep with him?" He snickers.

“That's not fair. I don't do that kind of stuff, if I can help it; I still have some respect for myself." Merna whimpers, clearly offended by his remark.

“I'm sorry... It's just a little difficult for me at the moment."

“I can only imagine." She softly replies.

“How are you coming up with the money?"

“Oh, I already have it! I've been busy. It turns out that two powerful families are on the brink of a war with each other."

“The Brakas and the Romos."

“Oh, so you've heard?!"

“Yeah..." Valan takes another drink.

“Well, I checked out one of the manors and last night, not two hours after I left your little ship, I made a tidy sum. I found what looked like a payroll chest and dipped my hand into it. A full coin purse is more than enough to get to the mainland and start fresh."

“You should be careful, Merna. That kind of shit will get you killed, and you're too good for thievery anyway."

Looking toward her, Merna and Valan's eyes lock. Valan stares deeply into her shimmering, sapphire spheres. It steals her breath away from her, causing her to flush beneath her fur. His concern, even after all she'd done to him, takes her aback.

“You sound like you care." She finally speaks.

“Of course I care... I could've loved you. I could've loved Jarae, too, but neither of you would let me. Just because you're both disinterested in me, that doesn't mean that I suddenly stop caring about either of you."

A thoroughly flabbergasted Merna stares with wide eyes. With a softened brow and her big, blue eyes staring back at him, she looks nervous. Soon, however, her eyes narrow and a sinister smile crosses her lips.

“Are you sure you don't want just one last round? I wouldn't mind having something to remember you by." She coos.

“You know I only want to do that with a lover."

“That makes you one of the few, then. I won't lie; I'm actually disappointed. I can count on one hand how many times a man has done this to me. That's rare, Val. Most of the time, it's women who have that kind of power; we know what we have over men, and we use it constantly."

“So I've been told." Valan murmurs, before taking another drink.

“I've been with more men than I care to admit, and Jarae... Heh... She's probably spent half of her life on her back, or maybe her hands and knees. I guess that depends on the men's preferences." Merna continues.

“Why are you telling me this?" He looks to her once more.

“You have impressive skills, Val. That wasn't just me being cute, earlier. I didn't really want to ask you for sex, but I was compelled to; you're just that amazing when we're together. It's confusing. I'm actually a little relieved that you don't want to indulge me, and yet I'm also upset. That's a considerable power to wield, Val. Do you know what makes a good assassin or spy? Do you know what makes a good anything?! You find the skills you have and you use them to your advantage."

“I'm not either of those things." He retorts.

“It doesn't matter. You have a skill. If you were smart, you'd realize that and stuff that moral compass back into your pocket, or you're going to be used by clever women like Jarae and I for the rest of your life, and all for nothing. You might as well get something out of it, like we do. Take a page out of our book."

Valan sits in silence, pondering her words. He then looks to Merna, who flashes a toothy smile.

“You just want to have sex with me again." He smirks.

“Well, yeah! I mean that, though. If you don't find a nice woman soon enough, you're going to want to consider career options, and that..." She pauses, glancing down at his crotch as her smile grows wider. “That is a skill you shouldn't waste."

“Noted. So, what's your plan?"

“Go to the ship. My new captain said he wants to leave by dawn. I'm not missing my chance." Merna answers.

“Please take care, Merna... I... I don't want anything to happen to you."

“Aww!" She leans in, draping an arm over his shoulders. “See?! If you could fake that with a queen, you'd have their kingdom to yourself."

Leaning in further, Merna nuzzles his cheek. Turning his head, she swiftly kisses him on the lips.

“Don't worry about me, you sweetheart, you. When I reach the mainland, I'll be a new person. I won't steal, I won't abuse, and I won't seduce. Things will be different."

“I hope so." He murmurs.

“Goodbye, Val, for real this time."

With a silent nod, he watches as Merna sets a coin on the counter, tapping it loudly so that the barkeep with hear it. Winking at Valan as she turns her back, she pulls up her hood and heads for the door. Merna disappears into the dead of night, her footsteps muffled by the rain. The barkeep collects the coin, spinning it between his thumb and index finger as he turns his eyes toward Valan, who stares at the doorway with a melancholy expression.

“You seem to know everyone." He remarks.

“I get around."

“Yeah." The barkeep softly chuckles. “So I've heard... I can imagine that's not difficult, with friends like her."

“Watch your mouth, or I'll tear your tongue out!" Valan snaps.

“Hey, I'm just complimenting your taste. I've had a few Jaliscan whores in the past. Never had a better time."

Rising from his stool, Valan guzzles the last of his ale, before taking out a single coin and tossing the copper piece at the barkeep. He fumbles to catch it, dropping the coin to the floor and chasing after it for a moment as it rolls away.

“Better save up for your next trip to the brothel..." Valan remarks as he lifts up his hood. “That's the only way a pig like you could touch a woman."

“Go to hell." The barkeep snarls.

Leaving the inn, Valan walks through the empty streets, making his way back to the Braka's manor and pondering Merna's words. Perhaps she's right? Perhaps he's been doing it wrong all this time? Recalling his night with Kat, the first and only prostitute he'd ever visited, he can't help but smile at how she refused his payment; all she wanted was another round with him. The more he dwells on it, the more he realizes that Merna wasn't just trying to con him into another night together. Perhaps she truly worried for his future and offered a solution that has worked so well for her and many other women?

Pausing beneath a lamppost and watching the Braka's manor from a distance, Valan makes a fateful decision. If it works for Merna, Jarae and so many women, then why not do it himself? At least he can enjoy his time with them, and not worry about being used. Standing near the balcony, Irzain looks to and fro, wondering where Valan has gone. Has he decided against such a foolish plan? Should he make his way back to the Arona-Dahl and check? Just as Irzain is about to leave his room, he takes one last glance outside.

To his relief, a shadowy figure climbs an old, broken down cart, lifting themselves up and onto the wall surrounding the courtyard of the manor. Moving carefully along the wall, they reach a section that allows an easy jump onto the roof of a shed. Landing atop the shed, they walk carefully toward a drainage pipe at the corner of the manor, which leads up to the second floor. A flash of lightning briefly reveals Valan's distant features to Irzain. A thunderclap masks the sound of Valan stumbling on the roof of the second floor, before climbing through the window he'd originally escaped from.

From his vantage point, Irzain watches as Valan removes his weatherproof cloak, placing it back inside of the wardrobe he'd found it in. Collecting a few rags from the room, Valan covers his tracks further by drying up the water he'd tracked into his room. Noticing Irzain watching him from across the way, Valan closes the shutters. Only a few moments later, Irzain can see the half-breed woman making her way to Valan's room. She pauses, then steps closer, before pausing again and speaking quietly to herself. She's obviously nervous and unsure of her thoughts.

Finally, however, she reaches his door and knocks. Irzain cocks his head and leans against the doorframe of his balcony, curious to see what'll transpire. The door opens and the woman seems to freeze. Emerging from the room, Irzain quietly chuckles. Valan wears only his loaned trousers, and there's no rope or belt to help keep them up. He holds them with a single hand, leaning against the door with his other arm.

“... Yeah?" Valan asks in a soft tone.

“I-I, uh... Uhm..." Lucerna hesitates, taking in his form.

“You?" He eases her along.

“Oh! I wanted to say that... Well... I'm sorry about earlier. I-I thought th-that maybe..."

With a little smile, Valan steps closer to her. He rests a hand on her upper arm, gently stroking her with his thumb.

“Don't be sorry. I should be the one apologizing to you."

“F-for what?!"

“There's a lot you don't know about me, Lucerna."

“Please, call me Lucy." She smiles warmly.

“I've been around, Lucy... You wouldn't be my first, and the last one hurt me... Quite a bit." He begins, taking a deep breath.

“Aww, you poor thing!"

“I like you; you're beautiful and interesting and I enjoy your company."

Lucerna's face lights up as he speaks.

“But I wasn't sure if I could handle it, not after the last one. I pulled away because you're a nice girl, and I care what happens to you, and I... I just didn't want to mislead you; I don't want to hurt you."

Speaking in half-truths is easier for Valan than outright lying, but that's all it takes. Seeing his genuine pain over Merna and Jarae's misuse of his trust and his body, Lucerna feels a tinge of pity. It's enough to draw her in, but not nearly enough to repel her from an otherwise pathetic individual; Valan is still as strong and attractive as ever, but now he's a broken bird that she can heal. Her heart thumps almost painfully in her chest, and she feels her temperature rising. Stepping closer, she reaches out for Valan, resting her dainty hands on his shoulders. Leaning in, their lips caress, and they share a kiss.

Looking deeply into her eyes, he leans back in, softly kissing her again. His hands rest atop her slender waist, before sliding down and stopping on her broad hips. He gives her a squeeze, before pulling her in as his kisses become more intense. Shivering from delight and nervousness, Lucerna melts in his arms, obeying every subtle command that his body gives her. She feels his tongue invading her mouth, slowly at first. She opens wider, allowing him to taste her. His tongue glides over hers, so she reciprocates; they entwine as they fight for dominance.

Valan, however, soon prevails. As he commands her mouth, she also feels him commanding her body. Her loins burn with a desire that the virgin has never felt before; she's craved the experience of sex, but not to this degree. It's almost a need at this point. Her nether lips grow moist, seeping her juices. The gunman's hand grabs her buttocks, giving a plump, perfect cheek a firm squeeze. She stumbles as he pulls her into his room. Closing the door with one hand, he pushes down his trousers with the other. Unable to resist the urge, Lucerna glances down while Valan is distracted. Seeing his exposed manhood for the first time, her rose colored eyes light up.

“Wow..." She murmurs with a wide smile.

Reaching out and taking her wrist in his hand, Valan pulls her closer before placing her hand on his warm flesh. She feels his growing erection, trembling as she gives him a squeeze. Lucerna is startled by his size; his girth is considerable, and his length is impressive. Even his shape seems perfect to her; he's so full and proportioned. Resting his hands on her shoulders, she finds herself stroking his organ, without him ever asking for her to do so. He peels her out of her garments, exposing her ample breasts. The human leans in, promptly placing a nipple in his mouth as he fondles her.

“Ooohhh." She coos. “Th-that... Mmm."

Valan doesn't stop, pushing her dress further down and dropping it to the floor. His other hand teases her womanhood, rubbing her loins while slowly guiding her toward his bed. To her surprise, he's very gentle as he pushes her back. Climbing over her, he stares into her eyes before giving her the most passionate kiss yet. Is this what love feels like?

“Here we go. I'll go slow, okay?"

“Okay... I'm reh-AHH!" She cries out as he penetrates her.

Hearing her brief but muffled exclamation from across the square, Irzain shakes his head, a little smile spreading across his lips. Thunder claps, drowning out their sounds as Valan claims the young woman's virginity. Lucerna's toes curl and her slender fingers press into his back as she feels his manhood burying itself deeper and deeper into her body, filling her loins to capacity. A sudden tickling startles her, causing her to tilt her head. Peering between her mountainous orbs and at her quivering loins, she's amazed to find her lover's endowment is fully sheathed within her. She pants for air, lying her head on the pillow and staring at the ceiling as Valan looms over her.

“Oh, Valan. I, nnn, can't believe we're, nngf, doing this."

“Does it hurt?" He asks, softly kissing her face.

“A little. It's already starting to feel nice though, Valan." She flushes.

“Good, and call me Val."

Pushing himself up, he takes hold of her large breasts as he kneels betwixt her legs. Swaying his hips, he picks up speed as he thrusts himself into her. He grabs hold of an ankle, then the other, controlling her legs as he uses her.

“Mmm-do you like this?" He can't help but ask.

“Ahh! Yes, Val! Mmmm-sooo good! It's, hhf, unbelievable!" Lucerna gasps for breath, succumbing to pure pleasure.

A gust of wind blows, and the poorly latched shutter to Valan's bedroom window is forced open. To Irzain's surprise, he can see Valan's back and Lucerna's bare legs and dainty feet in the air. It's obvious what's transpiring inside the room.

“Well, I guess they're not coming out anytime soon... I bet his father would be proud of him now." He chuckles, watching the pair through the window, from across the square. “I wonder how Steingar is fairing."

Crouching behind a boulder on the outskirts of town, the Helngar warrior grips firmly to the crossbar of his unique blade. Icy water soaks his clothes and his fur, running over him like a waterfall. Beside him is a Falmun male, one of the Romos' minions. A short distance away, two more Falmun and a human wait behind the remnants of a short wall. One of these men is Rokig himself. He watches their targets with a sinister glee, admiring the wagon of treasure that sits before them.

“How much longer? It's cold out here!" A Crown soldier whines.

“How the hell should I know? All I know is that we're supposed to wait for the Regent, hand the cart over to him, and go." The other answers.

“Seems like we should have more men, considering what we're carrying. The budget of an entire town seems like something that should have better protection."

“The point is to not be noticed; we don't want to publicize our intentions with fifty Helngarian warriors." The other soldier shakes his head.

“I suppose... But why not six, at least?"

“Shut up! ... 'Why not six' he says... I'll tell you why not six! Because-! ..." The other soldier pauses, scratching his chin as he thinks. “Well, because that'd be only one more guard; the other three would be babysitting you... Moron."

“You don't need to be so mean." The first soldier whimpers.

“Quiet. I think they're here."

Steingar and the others make themselves ready, awaiting Rokig's command. Thunder claps overhead and a flash of lightning briefly illuminates the area. From the darkness, five more men approach, all of them Falmun. The diminutive elves are four men wearing leather and chainmail armor, protecting an elegantly dressed fifth man. This man is clearly of some importance, as he's adorned with jewelry and silk garments, and protected from the rain with a canvas sheet. He must be the Regent, the acting leader of the town in the absence of the sitting Lord.

“Is that what we came all this way for?" The Regent calls out.

“It is." One of the soldiers steps forward.

“Ahh, finally! I've been waiting for this for some time. So, if I accept that wagon, how much of it is mine?"

“All of it, my Lord." The first soldier meekly replies.

“Ah, yes! Thank you for reminding me! This has been a good deal between King Vashalak and I. I hope the next payment is equally substantial." The Regent smiles from cheek to cheek.

“Just ensure that our new fortress is constructed soon and without delay, and that the garrisoned men the King gives you will be well taken care of."

“Oh, they will. You have my word. Just ensure that King Vashalak knows that I'm loyal, so long as I'm paid. Should he choose to purge Lord Truskym, I'd be more than happy to take his place. At least with me in the castle, we won't have to make these deals in the dead of night."

“We'll pass it along."

“Excellent! And the new soldiers?"

“They'll be here within the day."

“Good, good." The Regent rubs his hands together.

Looking past his minions, Rokig nods at Steingar and his other men, taking up a pair of ornate wheellock pistols. With two arquebus rifles at the ready, Rokig's minions have been shielding them with oversized, weatherproof cloaks. They gently blow on the matches, making the embers hotter and preparing for their use in less than ideal conditions. Steingar's muscles tense up, and his companion readies a far less ornate wheellock pistol. Charging from around the corner, Rokig closes in on the Regent and his four bodyguards.

“What the-?!"

Bang, bang! Rokig fires both of his pistols nearly simultaneously, and from a distance of barely ten yards. He strikes the Regent in the throat, and one of his men in the heart, killing him instantly. His minions also fire, before the rain can soak their gunpowder and extinguish their matches. Bang. Bang. They shoot a second bodyguard, but the other bullet misses entirely. Panicking, the bodyguards draw their own wheellock pistols, firing at Rokig and his men. One of Rokig's minions is struck by both bullets, while Rokig and his other man charge the now defenseless bodyguards.

Meanwhile, Steingar and his associate emerge from behind the boulder, charging at the soldiers who draw their swords. Steingar's ally pulls the trigger of his wheellock pistol. Click. The trigger pulls but the mechanism has malfunctioned. Leaping onto one of the men, Steingar plunges the exotic blade deeply into his victim's chest, beneath his sternum and pushing it upward, piercing his heart. They fall to the ground together. Racing up to aid Steingar, his associate is swiftly impaled by the panicking soldier, who rushes him with his sword drawn and leveled.

Spewing blood from his mouth, he grabs the sodlier's throat, trying to choke the life from him as he quickly expires. Falling over and taking the soldier's sword with him, which is hung up on his bones, Steingar withdraws his blade, leaps to his feet and swings his arm. He slashes the soldier several times before swinging the blade horizontally, slicing open his neck. Falling backward, the mutilated soldier chokes on his own blood, while bleeding out into the dirt, staring with horror at the sky. Steingar pauses and looks over the scene, watching with his glowing, golden eyes as Rokig and his remaining minion beat the two bodyguards to death in the pouring rain.

“Woo! That's better than sex! Look at that!" Rokig exclaims, jumping to his feet.

Steingar is unnerved by the ruthless and coldhearted nature of the youngest Romos brother. This isn't an act; he's truly enjoying himself. Rokig is a sociopath. Few can take such pleasure in the pain and death of others; Steingar feels tremendous guilt over all that he's done as a soldier, and all that he's done tonight. He'd hoped for a bloodless heist, but unfortunately for him, the Romos saw his potential and thoroughly exploited it. Marching proudly through the mud toward Steingar, the short Falmun, barely five feet and three-inches tall, pats the Helngar's arm with a bloodied hand.

“Let's see what we've got! My source said it should be a fortune."

Racing up to the wagon, they pull back the tarp and reveal a single, large chest. Climbing into the wagon, Rokig lifts the lid. Inside, they find it to be filled with golden vasariks of the largest size. A visual estimate of the value of the coins is well over one-hundred-thousand. Steingar and the remaining minion's eyes bulge nearly out of their heads. A smirking Rokig takes a coin, lifting it up and examining it. Lightning flashes and thunder claps as his twisted smile grows ever wider.

“Perfect." He sighs with relief.

Rokig holds the coin beside Steingar's face, keeping it eye level with the Helngar as he stands in the wagon.

“Heh... It's a shame that I can't pluck those out and spend them; they match the rest of my new fortune."

“What now, boss?" The minion asks.

“Mister Helngar, was it?"

“Yes."

“You and Forzin see if you can haul that chest. I can help if you can't, but I need to do something first."

Obeying Rokig's instructions, they drag the heavy chest toward the rear of the wagon. Even with Steingar's Helngarian strength, it's a challenge to carry the treasure-laden chest. Turning his head, Steingar watches curiously as Rokig first loots the Regent's corpse of his jewelry, adorning himself with it, before placing a few pendants around the necks of his own dead men.

“Good thing you're new, whatever your name was. Now I don't have to pay you!" Rokig chirps, looking down at a corpse. “Alright, ladies. Let's see if we can get that big, beautiful chest back home!"