A Fallen Soul

"-yes, thank you for your help. I'll be fine, really."

Alleria waved her hands, flustered at the secretary's insistence that she get herself checked up with their healer. He simply could not accept it when she insisted she hadn't been hurt at all, thanks to the aid of her companions and some good luck.

"We'll have people come over and take care of the bodies as soon as possible." He said, writing something down with his quill. "And are you sure neither of your companions is in need of any assistance? Flugh really wouldn't mind, and he charges very little for his services. I could call him now if you want?"

She shook her head again. "We were very fortunate that they failed to ambush us properly, otherwise, I would be earnestly taking you up on your offer. And I wish we didn't have to resort to violence so quickly." He twiddled her fingers and looked downcast.

"Ma'am, those were bandits, thugs whose only goal was to strip you bare of your gold and possessions. Off record, I would say that their actions justify their fate, and you should just be thankful you made it out unscathed. Some of the stories you hear about those less fortunate…" He shuddered, "They're the sort I couldn't bear repeating to you."

She nodded and made a show of wiping at her eyes. "I- thank you so much. If I need anything else, I'll be sure to come to you. You've been such a great help."

I am definitely not stepping foot in here again.

"Think nothing of it, ma'am."

She waved her hand and looked suitably distressed as she left the hall. Then, when she was down the road and sure no more eyes were on her, she shook herself free of the distressed damsel. In an uncomfortable sense, she'd been lucky to see one crying to her mother whilst walking to the Company building, though the damsel in question had been no more than a child. What had her problem been? Someone broke her doll?

Ideally, it shouldn't have been her doing this sort of thing. It meant her face was being seen by countless people, and it left a lasting memory she usually tried to avoid. But last she'd checked, the old man was still trying to talk to Danadrian. And he was having very little success in his attempts.

If he were just easier to get a read on, that would make this whole situation easier to understand.

Because she didn't understand what he was going through, plain and simple. He'd fought like a monster, to the point where she wondered if he'd even remembered to breathe in between. It had got to the point that, even if she hadn't distracted and killed the two archers, she assumed they probably wouldn't have even been able to hit him before he slaughtered them as well.

But then he'd stopped, he'd faltered and then collapsed beside the bodies. When he turned back to them, he was crying, and if she thought she was coming closer to understanding the Angelica, that had proved to her how far away she truly was.

Why did he weep for his enemies? The idea of crying over enemies, over Talradians…

She put a hand to her stomach.

Absolutely sickening.

The look in his eyes had been eerie, a man haunted by his actions. That was what she couldn't fathom. The regret at defending himself and stopping those intent on taking his and their lives. To then turn back and mourn them, as if the line between foe and friend had been posthumously blurred…

Familiar. It reminded her of-

No. Stop. Not that.

The memory fizzled out, and she focused back on her environment. Tathlani didn't have alleyways, which meant disappearing and wandering around discreetly was harder for her. So it became less about avoiding attention and more about blending into the environment. If she couldn't be a shadow, then she'd be a bystander, a background character of the town that wouldn't be worth batting an eye over.

Couldn't go back to camp, not yet. That wasn't a good idea for anybody. So instead she ruffled her cloak up, tilted her hat down, and flecked her face with dirt from the road. She considered making her hair messier, but running one hand through told her there was no need. Then she adjusted her sword, so it was hanging more haphazardly at her side, and looked for the nearest tavern.

Which turned out to be pretty easy. Tathlani was so small that aside from its status as a Dragonslayer Baile, any other nation would consider it closer to a village. There were two inns, quite a few bars, but only one tavern that anybody considered 'up to scratch' and worth your time.

The Ilkenhawk Taphouse was already in full swing, with men and women who'd just finished work wandering in, and even the occasional drunkard being thrown it, which was impressive given the time. Just around the corner from it, she spotted a group of beggars eying anyone leaving, no doubt seeking anyone drunk enough to hand them some silver. Or the completely inebriated, they could rob without consequences, either was acceptable.

When she entered, she just became another one of them. A part of the crowd. Alcohol solved quite a few problems, and she'd found that being around the inebriated lightened some of their more derogatory remarks or outright insults. For who could make judgments before the almighty deities that were Ale and Beer? Before them, outsiders and locals were all equal.

She dropped a few coppers on the counter and received the cheapest and foulest-smelling mug of ale she'd ever tasted. Then, with her drink in hand, she spun around to look at the nearest table.

And Blinked.

Ingratiating yourself to drunks and drinkers at the end of a hard day was easy. You laughed at their jokes, agreed with their sentiments, and when they were willing, bought them a refill. And they were always willing.

She laughed and slapped the back of her drunk brothers and sisters, matching their laughter with her own. When one of them stood up on his table and began to bellow what she assumed to be a song, she clapped and cheered alongside the room, then went back to laughing when he toppled over and got a stern warning from the owner.

It was barely an hour before she was welcomed into the circle of drunken taverngoers and found herself at a quieter side of the room, relatively speaking, where those more willing to have a conversation sat around.

"I heard some rumours from a traveller this morning." The grunts around her she took as permission to continue. "Heard some talk about a commotion in Fordain, got all of them riled up and anxious. At least that's what they told me." She spat into her empty mug. "Demons."

The sentiment was mirrored around her, and a couple even copied her. One of them, an older man with a scar across his cheek, banged his mug against the table. "As if this bloody kingdom couldn't get any bloody worse. Now we've got to keep our eyes out for monsters at night."

"True Chaos blight them from this world. Why don't they just go bother some other people for a change?"

"Wish those Talradians would do us all a favour by wiping them out."

The response was grunts, nods, and swearing. In general, it was mostly a mix of more annoyance than fear, which is what you would expect from those not entirely of sound mind. But made up for that with their opinions, which they were unafraid to give, loudly and with pride.

"Not too far from here. Means it's going to be more of an inconvenience, especially if Fordain is involved."

There were more grunts and nods of agreement. Then one man stood up.

"If a Demon comes here, they'll get what they have coming. Since Fordain can't deal with them, might as well put them both in their place." His face was red, perhaps from anger, but more likely from the seven meads he'd inhaled. A couple of voices shouted in support of him before his friend pulled him back to his seat.

"Anyone else heard anything?" She was leaning down against her mug. "If there's a Demon to be put down, you can sign me up. Blasted things can get what they've had coming to them."

There were murmurs and again a lot of spitting and grunting, but nobody responded outright. Not until another old man, his table covered in muck and his face in grime, raised a hand, "I saw one."

Her eyes bulged, and so did a few others.

"Not another one of your tales, grandpa. You told us there were Naiads in the lake last week."

That got a few laughs, but Alleria was only focused on the old man. He was undeterred.

"I thought I did. There was this strange man wandering around. Must've been…" He paused, raised one finger, and then another. "… four days or a week ago. Asking questions, and now all travellers ask questions, I know, but not like this one. Came around here actually, sticking his nose into our business and poking around for something, Gods only know what."

He burped, making anybody leaning in recoil. Then he wiped his face and continued.

"But he was strange, never removed his hood, and armed well for the 'simple traveller' he said he was. And I'll swear to you on my mother's grave that he had Demon eyes."

Unconsciously, she leaned back and hoped her own eyes weren't as noticeable in this light.

"I'm not hearing much in the way of evidence, old man. Sounds like you just came across some passing loon. Not very Demon-sounding, is it?"

He banged his hand against the table. "It was a Demon, and I'll swear to that on my mother's grave."

"You swear on that every other week." A group laughed at him.

"Demon horns were under that hood, and I'll bet gold on it. Besides, if there's a Demon in Fordain, what says there can't be one here too? They never travel alone, that's what the stories say."

"The stories." Someone scoffed and laughed, and attention was pulled elsewhere.

Alleria, however, met his gaze and forced herself to keep character. When he noticed her looking, she nodded.

"Tell me more."

. . .

The next morning, a group of men from town came to dispose of the bodies. They were stacked on a small cart and pulled off, probably taken to a graveyard, depending on whatever the local guard chose to do with them.

She hadn't seen Danadrian when she returned last night, and similarly, he was absent during breakfast, remaining in his tent. When she asked Velandus about it, he just shook his head.

"Give him some time."

Well, that was mildly frustrating, but she let it slide. "I'm going back into town to find us a boat that'll ferry us south. Hopefully, it won't take me too long."

"I thought you found one already."

"I got a recommendation, but I'll need to verify it first." She was already swapping her cloak out for one of Velandus' heavier and more travel-worn ones. "Once that's done, there are a few more things I need to check in on before I come back."

"Rumours?"

She grimaced, "I want to make sure they're just that, but I will be as thorough as I can be. And you?"

"I think it would be safer for us if we moved into town. Or do you think those were just 'bandits' that attacked us last night?" They were standing close to Danadrian's tent, so he had lowered his voice. "Not Demon Hunters, no, but who knows how many they could've hired to swarm the forest. We both know they have the coin to do it."

She grappled with that for a second before nodding. "Once Danadrian's awake, pack up camp and find an inn to hunker down in. It'll be a believable and justifiable move now that we've been attacked, and we're going to be remembered for that anyway."

It wasn't what she had wanted, but now they had to improvise. She continued, "And when the Talradians, if those really were their people, notice they're missing, then we'll have their entire force on our heads in a matter of days."

"So we'll need a ship as soon as possible."

"I'll try my best."

Her eyes were darting around, analysing each person she passed as she made her way down to the harbour. There were all sorts of characters walking about, but none that she needed right now. A mason, a smith, a barmaid, none of those were useful.

She had to settle on a large man who passed her by. He wasn't perfect, but she could make do with it.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

She Blinked.

And Alleria the adventurer waved down a passing captain who'd just finished talking with one of her crewmates. She lowered her head respectfully. "Good morning, Captain. You wouldn't happen to be the owner of that fine vessel?"

She waved her hand to the slim boat docked nearby. The Carathiliarian woman nodded, "That would be mine, yes. What's it to you?"

"My companions and I are seeking passage south, and word down the grapevine is you're bound for Fort Aladwine soon."

"So you're asking me if I have room for you lot." She rubbed her nose. "Depends how much coin you've got, this isn't a charity."

Alleria waved her hands, "Of course not. We've got silver, even gold that might interest you. If you are interested, that is."

The captain looked her over again. "Name?"

"Melia Palderstok."

"Profession? Where've you come from?"

"Adventurer and treasure-seeker. We travelled from Tandrias City via the roads."

"Why not charter a course from there? They're not lacking for good ships and decent captains."

She snorted, "And each one of them wouldn't miss a chance to overcharge us, so we thought, why waste where we could save. That's why we travelled overland, but the roads…"

"Not what you expected, huh?"

She put her hands in her pockets. "Why do you think I'm here? It was this or ride for the Kingdom of Moren, and I have a vested interest in not doing that."

The captain laughed, but her eyes were keen. "Got into a spot of trouble there?"

"It wouldn't be the first, but we'll have lots of time to talk about it, won't we?"

"Hmm…" She looked her over again, and this time, Alleria could feel her eyes lingering on the sword at her waist and the hat she wore, despite it being a relatively cloudy day. But adventurers were strange folk. "You'll forgive me if I'm hesitant. Foreign traveller, offering me coin for swift transport. And I'm not usually in the business of ferrying people." He sighed, "Give me a day or two to think about it."

She nodded, "Of course, I'll leave you to your thoughts. Thanks for the time."

Then she smiled, waved a hand to the unamused-looking captain, and walked away. She couldn't tell if and when the eyes fixed on her looked away, only that when she left the harbour, it was at a controlled pace.

We should bring Velandus next time, he could calm any misgivings she has in a heartbeat. And he can be genuine about it.

"It's a start, but I needed more than a start." She muttered, "How much time do we have left?"

The same feeling that had taken hold of her in Fordain was reemerging. There, she had been trapped in a net, frantically trying to be free of it before the hunter finished their advance towards her. Now, she felt like she was in a cave with only a single torch and knew that at any moment a monster would leap at her from the dark.

And just like before, the one thing she needed was the one thing hardest to get.

Out.

. . .

The inn Velandus had chosen was the worse of the two, but also the cheapest, so she couldn't entirely fault him for it. Thankfully, he had got them separate rooms, and the innkeeper had let them leave the cart and horse by the stables. After taking one look at her bed and 'pillow', if you could even call it that, she was of half a mind to spend her nights outside in a haystack. That actually might be more comfortable, and definitely softer.

Danadrian was up and about, and he seemed to be recovering from whatever had come over him. Naturally, she had enough tact not to bring it up, at least for now. Though it was a question that itched at her head, it was definitely far lower on her list of priorities.

She still thought he was a bit more reserved than usual, but the next morning he offered to go through more steps and exercises with her.

We should be at the harbour, we haven't spoken to that captain again. Or, if not, the bars. There's no better way to hear secrets and rumours than with a good pint. It might even get Danadrian going.

She decided to take him up on his offer for two reasons. One, though she still disagreed with a lot of what he'd said and insinuated, there was truth in his reasoning, and she could see some benefits that may come from it. Two, the last time she'd tried to walk away, he had responded with a sword swing, and after seeing what he could really do with that blunt blade when he put his mind to it… she didn't feel like taking another chance at it.

An hour later, she felt the need to voice one of her many complaints.

"Am I seriously supposed to keep doing this? I understand what you were getting at last time, but this seems a bit ridiculous, don't you?"

She was swinging her sword again, just as he'd made her do last time. Only now, instead of swinging it up and down, he was making her swing it from side to side.

Over…

And over…

And over again.

An hour of this, after her stretches and warmups.

Skill with the blade aside, this is inane.

"It makes sense, if you only know the basics, then why not keep improving them until you're a master. Who wins first? The squad of master swordsmen, or the horde of recruits that have had these motions drilled into them?"

She frowned and looked at him. "That is an awful metaphor. How do you even remember that sort of example?"

"No clue, but if you're finding it that boring, do you want to spar?"

"I wouldn't say no to it."

She held her sword in front of her, assuming a position that felt as comfortable as she could manage. Though she was still at the point where most didn't, he claimed that would pass eventually when she got used to them.

Her skin crawled, however, and she felt naked here, being herself, with nobody to mimic.

Danadrian lifted his own sword up, and for a moment, he paused, and she saw a wave of anguish wash over his face. Then it disappeared, and he steeled his grip.

"Ready?"

It was just a spar, so when they went through the motions, it was much slower and with less force than in a real duel. That also allowed him time to make comments and critique her, which tended to do the opposite and throw her off.

"Don't hold the attack for too long, let it swing aside or duck away."

"Don't stop moving for even a second, keep your legs stepping."

"Good, good, now do that again."

"You're doing it again. Huh."

She backed away from a slash at his shoulder, which he'd deflected.

"What do you mean?"

"Slashing. Swiping, the movements you tend towards when you attack." He rolled his shoulders and lowered his sword. "Your sword isn't long enough for what I think you are trying to do, but if you used one with more length…"

She knew what he was referring to before he'd even finished his sentence. It wasn't the first time he'd brought it up, so this wouldn't be the first time she was forced to rebuke him.

"You don't know what you're talking about-"

"Because you won't explain it to me."

"-but I will not draw it, especially not for sparring. One wrong move and you'd be dead."

She expected him to scoff or complain more, but when their eyes met, he just frowned.

"You sound certain."

"I am certain."

"What is it?"

"Not of your world."

She sheathed her sword.

"Alleria, why have you gone through your entire life mimicking others instead of improving your own skills?"

His question hit like an oncoming herd of horses, and with all the tact and subtlety of them.

"There wasn't a point. If I duel someone, it won't be my skills, my training, or me that finishes them. It will be theirs."

She left the dusty square they'd been training in, and when his protests met her ears, she tuned them out. It was true, she didn't have time for this, and certainly not enough to explain it to him. Even if she had the stomach to. It was all so inconsequential.

So instead, Alleria turned the corner and took a look at the first person she saw.

And Blinked.

. . .

The rest of the day felt like a dream. She is in bars, at the inn, by the local meeting points where the edge of the skeletal wings met the earth. She listened to every rumour, every bit of information she could glean, and found her head overflowing with nonsensical remarks, irrelevant stories, and teenage gossip. Alleria the wandering minstrel mused that she could put some of it into song if she had the time, but the rest was utterly pointless. What use was knowing that the baker's wife was pregnant or that the dockworker three roads down was having an affair?

Alleria the drunkard stumbled out of a bar, barely able to keep herself standing, and lamented that the alcohol in Tathlani really could use some improvements. Not like she knew where they could get them, it was just an idle thought. Well, a drunk one actually. She could feel the intoxication bleeding out of her, sacrificing some of her energy to 'heal' it, but the sober part of her actually relished this feeling. There were fewer worries, fewer problems when you could barely keep your head straight. Thoughts were but a luxury.

Then once again, Alleria the adventurer met with the captain at the harbour, this time with Velandus in tow, with the hopes that his presence would reassure her of the sincerity of the deal. That was why she had to bite her lip when the aforementioned captain was unmoved and looked at them both now with open distrust.

"I'm sorry, but I'll have to send a raven to confirm who you claim to be. Unless there is anyone in the immediate vicinity who could vouch for you? I thought not."

Nothing either of them could say would sway her, she was as stubborn as the mountains themselves.

Gods damn her to Galumtir.

She stomped off, with Velandus trying his best to keep pace.

"I can get her to reconsider if I have a little time."

"Yes well, you do that. I have things to do. Adventure and glory wait for no one, you know?"

She got one last look at him, frowning and opening his mouth to say something else, before she was gone, marching off down a different street.

It was when she was between two houses, on a quiet and empty street, looking up at the leaping figures of Carathiliar and noting Muthlan and Cerelain already clear in the late afternoon sky, that she felt a chill run down her shoulder. When she turned around, there was nobody skulking after her. When she turned back, however, she heard for a brief fraction of a second, the telltale sound of a weapon being drawn.

Alleria the adventurer spun and felt the air warp and still. It grew hot, then cold, and she couldn't feel even the faintest brush of a breeze. The figure in front of her drew back his cloak to reveal a pale face and glass-like eyes.

"Talradian."

"Demon."

Like a burst, the wind returned, throwing her off her feet and sending her sliding across the dirt. The Talradian, a smallsword in his hand and a bottled-up torrent of air in the other, threw himself at her, and her drawn sword met his in a second.

She Blinked.

Alleria the duellist knew immediately that his weapon bested hers in this encounter. That didn't include the Wind Magic he was using. He was faster, the temperature of the air kept fluctuating, and at any moment, he might throw her balance off again.

Their mana isn't unlimited, we can outlast him.

She deflected his thrusts and stabs, while mimicking his movements as best as her blade could manage. But his was thinner, built for the movements she now knew, whilst hers wasn't in the best shape to begin with. Chipped at the edges, damaged from multiple consecutive encounters without being repaired, it was a wonder it hadn't broken yet.

Knowing that, she did a move that he certainly couldn't achieve and slashed at his legs. He grunted, and the writhing, visible air in his palm burst out. Seeing exactly what he meant to do, instead of dodging or trying to run, she crouched. It hit her in the stomach, arching her upwards and sending her flying several metres up. Her heart was beating like a drum, but she just aimed her blade at the stumbling and cursing Talradian.

When he looked up, she got a second to see his eyes widen, before her feet hit the ground with a crunch. Her sword swiped down in a single motion, and his head came free with a squelch.

A faint breeze brushed against her cheeks. She immediately threw everything she had towards her feet and felt the uncomfortable feeling of bones shifting back into place. Something had definitely cracked or broken when she landed.

The Talradian's body was slumped over on the ground in one place, his head another. When she was healed enough to walk again, she pulled herself up and spared the corpse only a glance. Then she turned back again, reached into his pockets, and pulled a small bag jingling with coins.

When she returned to the inn, keeping her head low to avoid any attention, even after cleaning the blood off of her, she found her room and began rifling through one of her backpacks. Replace the hat, flip the cloak inside-out to change the colour, maybe find a bandana or piece of cloth to cover her face more. The Talradian's coin pouch had a few gold pieces, which were serviceable, but disgraceful for any duellist with a modicum of prestige.

When someone knocked on her door, she ignored it. When they knocked again and again, she huffed.

"Enter."

Velandus stooped into the closet-sized room and, after one look at her, scowled.

"Where have you been?"

"Out. Talradian tried to kill me in the streets, I slew him where he stood."

She saw his eyes widen before turning back and continuing.

"His body?"

"I left it there before anyone could spot me or attest my appearance to the crime. I suspect a local will have reported it by now."

He rubbed his eyes, "We'll need to move faster than, if there was any doubt that they know where we are, it's gone now."

"Well, unless you can court that captain into giving that passage, we're staying on dry land."

"… And going north isn't an option?"

Her hands slowed for a second. "No. They would just keep hunting us the same way they are now. And north… I will not take us to Tandrias City."

"It could be our only option, and Danadrian should go to Tandrias, we both know-"

"If the Lightbringer wants to go north," She interrupted, "he may go north, cowardly as it may be. Right now, I doubt he could kill even a Talradian before bursting into tears."

He faltered, and she could feel his eyes bearing into the back of her head.

"Alleria-"

"What? What is it, Velandus? Can't you see I'm busy enough as it is without your-"

"Release it."

She paused, "What?"

"You're still mimicking someone, aren't you? Release it."

She turned to stare at him. But then she felt it, felt in her Soul, and she let out a small breath. Not at exasperation or annoyance, just a single moment of understanding. She released the duellist, the warrior, the hunter, and immediately the air in the room began to settle. The pouch fell from her grip.

"I- what was I…?"

Velandus put his hands on her shoulders, "Breath, just breathe, Alleria. Let it go."

Her body was shaking. How long had that been happening? It was like a weight on her shoulders, a knot of stress leaning against her that she had grown accustomed to, that she'd ignored and kept walking forward. Because she needed to when others couldn't. When they needed a plan, it was she who had to come up with one, to get the ball rolling and everyone else moving.

Don't stop moving, don't stop thinking, don't-

When his hands rubbed her shoulders, she felt that knot begin to unravel, bit by bit. Stress and nervousness gave way to exhaustion, and suddenly she felt the energy she had given to heal her legs disappear, the weight of days spent with minimal sleep, recovering her liver after every drink. It rushed in at once, and her knees buckled.

"Hey now, there you go." He held her as she slumped onto the ground. Her hand was still shaking, vibrating like it was still on a rush. How long had they been doing that? Days, weeks?

"It was the first rule, the only rule they cared about. How could I be so stupid?" She muttered.

Velandus sat down beside her, keeping his hands still resting on her. "What rule?"

"The House, when we're old enough to start practising, we're taught one rule in particular, over and over again." She blinked away the wetness in her eyes, "You are the character, but the character isn't you. That's what they tell us."

Too many ideas, too many thoughts, too many emotions, too many possibilities. She leaned her head against the old man.

"I don't know if I can keep doing this. Keep running, keep hiding. They deserve everything they have coming to them, and I would see it done, but I…" She closed her eyes. "This road only leads to one place. I'm afraid, Velandus, afraid of what that will make me, afraid of taking it up again."

He ran his hands through her knotted hair, raking apart the worst of them and deftly avoiding her horns. His voice was quiet. "Would you like someone else to take it upon themselves? We would, and all you had to do was ask."

She didn't answer, and after a moment he continued.

"You've stumbled, in the same way we all have. Even if some of us can't remember it, you're in the company of old men and immortals, we know a thing or two about failure. Look at Danadrian, he's alone, cast out by his people. I think he understands what it means to fail. And now he's being faced with questions he's afraid to answer."

She imagined the conflicted face of the Angelica, the tears he'd wept for dead Carathiliar, and the pained expressions he tried to hide.

"I'm too hard on him."

"You are both too hard on yourselves." He continued to run his hands through her hair, and she felt his other tap her knee. "What becomes of you when you push yourselves like this? It only proves detrimental to one person, and person only, and that's yourself. But would you want someone to take it upon themselves?"

Again, she didn't answer, but he wasn't expecting one.

"The answer is no. Not because of pride or obligation, but because there is no one else who can do what you do, not in the way you do it. So stop being so hard on yourself, don't push yourself further than you need to, because we need you. Not a warrior or an adventurer or a cook or a spy. We want Alleria, daughter of Anaderia. Daughter of Elevar."

She sniffed, hoping she hadn't dirtied his tunic.

"But what am I, if not an exiled Demon of House Elevar? Mimickers and impersonators, it's what makes us who we are. It is who I am."

"But is it all of you, every last piece?"

She opened her mouth. Then closed it. He patted her head.

"That we shall see, won't we, my friend?"