The Butterfly Effect

The man led him to another place in town. It almost could've been called a tavern, except no one was drinking, nor talking to one another. Perhaps a garrison would be a better term for it?

Or, well, "prison" may not necessarily be wrong, either.

It smelled like alcohol and smoke but neither seemed to be present. The floorboards creaked beneath them as they walked further in; a few of the people they passed looked up at them, mostly with disinterest but some with looks of disgust or pity, only for a moment before turning away. Finally, the man stopped at an empty table, and gestured for Alexei to sit down.

"I'll be back momentarily, with your new coworker and mission." The man didn't need to say anything else.

Alexei knew better than to run from his problems, especially those he knowingly put himself into.

The place was filled with a suffocating silence. The only real noise was the occasional cough or shuffle. It meant he had nothing to focus on but his own beating heart, and the nauseating feeling that he could never quite beat down.

In a couple of minutes—they felt much longer, to the point he was starting to lose control of what little of his composure remained—the man came back, papers in his hands and a young woman behind him. She didn't bother smiling at Alexei, but her gaze was a bit kinder than the others. It was only as she sat it down on the table that he realized she'd brought a plate of bread and fruit with her.

The man, as the woman slowly sat down on the opposite side of Alexei, remarked, "This is Roselyn Trevain. She'll be your coworker and mentor throughout all of your time here. These papers here are about your first mission together. I expect you to go out and investigate in two hours—that should give you enough time to familiarize yourself with each other and get ready."

With that, he left.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. But it was obvious Roselyn wanted to say something, because she kept staring at Alexei, as if figuring out what to say or waiting for him to say something first.

"The priest told me a bit about you," she said, quietly. "Alexei Collins, right?"

He nodded.

"You… you can call me Rosie, if you want."

Alexei knew that wasn't normal, because everyone around them immediately perked up and stared at them. Rosie's harsh glare, though, scared them all back into pretending they weren't listening.

"You look scared. Lost." She shrugged, as if it didn't really matter, as if the thought she was acknowledging his feelings wasn't actually making him feel a bit better. "This has got to be a lot for you, and it's not going to get any easier from here. But I don't want you to be scared of me. I'm here to help, really. So if it helps—if it makes this even a bit less scary—I'll let you call me Rosie."

Alexei slowly nodded. "Thank you. It means a lot." He meant it, even if the proper emotions didn't quite come out in his tone.

She pushed the plate a little closer to him. "Do you want to eat something? Priesty—that's what we call him, he doesn't deserve to be called by his real name—may talk big, but he can wait a bit longer. Even he knows better than to mess with me."

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"I'm not hungry."

"First rule of the job, kid. You've got to be ready for anything, and you know what the first step of being prepared is? Being well-rested, and getting a good meal. At least try something. I know it's not the most appealing, but it's what I could grab in just a minute."

The thought of eating anything made him sick. And Rosie must've picked up on that, too, because she sighed.

"Just… think about it, okay? I'm going to look over what our mission is. I'll show you around a bit and get you prepared for whatever Priesty has planned for us."

She left him in silence after that, which perhaps wasn't the best thing. He couldn't really focus on anything, yet the feeling of anxiety kept rising. He didn't like what he'd gotten himself into. But it was all for his family, wasn't it? And for them, he'd do anything.

Even if he knew he'd hate every minute of it.

Suddenly—or maybe a bit of time had passed, because she had stood up, and was now looking at him again—Rosie prompted, "Were you listening?"

Alexei decided to just be honest and shake his head. He hadn't even realized she'd been talking before. And given that whatever it is might've been important, there was no reason in lying.

She didn't seem that surprised by it. She tapped the plate and said, "I just want you to eat a bit before we get going. I think you'll feel a bit better afterward."

He doubted it, but he cautiously took one of the fruits. He forced himself to eat a bit of it, too, and watched as Rosie's expression grew a bit softer. And after a moment, he hated to acknowledge that she was right, at least a bit; with a less-empty stomach came a vaguely more focused mind. There was work to do.

"Come on, I'll show you where we keep our stuff." Rosie didn't exactly wait for him to follow her, but she did occasionally give a glance back to make sure. It wasn't long after they started that she asked, "You know what a Talmi-Amitael Pact is? Here—have a look."

She took something out of a small pocket in her belt and tossed it at Alexei. It was the size and shape of a coin, engraved with a sword covered in flower petals.

"Priesty's probably talking to the guy who makes ours now. It's not going to be as fancy as mine—I got it back when I was a mercenary—but it'll be whatever legal reassurance you need. I suppose it could give you some general comfort, but I… haven't seen it like that in a while. I won't blame the gods if they don't think I should be forgiven for what I do."

"So… we're killing people?"

Alexei only knew, broadly, how the Talmi-Amitael Pact worked. Legally, it gave mercenaries some leeway if they happened to kill someone important; if they didn't know who that person was or had been told about whatever consequences it would have, they were often seen better than those who just wanted to kill regardless. A whole bunch of documentation also made sure that it could be acknowledged wherever the mercenary was, and was how Seothia had adopted it. Within Qizar—where, as the name would suggest, it originated—it was also held in prayer to wordlessly ask forgiveness for the blood on their hands. As the story goes, Amitael may have forced the mercenaries to commit violence, but Talmi petitioned for them, knowing that they did it out of survival of them and their loved ones. Though it seemed Rosie wasn't too sure of that last bit.

She tried to act casual and shrugged. "Sometimes. Usually, Priesty just wants us to gather up all the condemning evidence so he can hold a 'trial' and get all the publicity of sentencing heretics. Occasionally he'll tell us to kill certain ones, though. But in a line of business like this, it's not a bad thing to have."

She turned a corner, then pushed open the door closest to her. "This is where all our stuff is," she explained, gesturing at the pile of swords and bows. "Do you know how to use any of this stuff?"

He simply shook his head.

"Eh, it's not too surprising. There's only one or two old mercenaries here, excluding myself. Don't worry about it too much for right now. What about your magic? What do you know how to do?"

"Not… much…" he admitted. "I mean, I guess the normal amount? I can pull out water and light the fire for tea. But that's about it…"

"That's fine. We'll figure out what works best for you while we work. It's not something you'll have to use a lot, anyway. Think of it like… learning a new skill, regardless of what it might be used for."

He nodded, though tried not to think about anything about his future. Or… think about anything at all, for that matter. Thinking was only going to send him down a spiral. Maybe it was better that way…