Chapter 4

It felt like I had been walking for days, but just as the sun began to peek over the horizon I smelled the familiar stench of smoke, burning wood in the hearths of thatched homes. It was a small mining village that orcs had taken over for resources not so long ago. It was on the Frontier border, but technically because it lay inside the Azsare forest it was by the orcs. Even so, they were not the only ones who used it.

For years the Nymphs, Satyrs, Orcs, Halflings, and Elves have all been welcome. But that wasn’t what was special about Eastcliff. Rumors that even Humans have gathered in this town spread far and wide across the seven.

Though it was dawn, many people walked the streets as if the day had started hours ago. Shoppes had opened, people were yelling, and many others were heading to the mines. I walked down the main road and headed towards the pub, the rubble stained with a thick layer of coal dust that marked itself across the town. People stared, reasonably so as I was covered with my own and the blood of orcs. Deciding to attend to my wounds before starting anything mildly physical, I ducked into an alleyway beyond the view of the main road. 

I checked the pockets of what little I had on me, thankful to find a small vial of alcohol and a wrap of bandages. I quickly made work of my cloak and the two buttons keeping my tunic secured around my neck. Pulling it down and unwinding the bandages, I swallowed hard before looking at the stab on my left shoulder. The skin was red around the caked blood and wound, the flow was limited now, scabbing already starting to form. Due to the cold, my shoulder was numb, making it easy to pour the clear liquid over the puckered skin. 

I wiped with the hem of my cloak, the blood coming off in clumps. However, with most of the blood gone, and my shoulder throbbing with a mild sting, I began wrapping. I’d done this many times from my father’s neglect after intense training, he couldn’t give two shits about my wellbeing. I tied off the end, a small crimson splotch already forming on the white material. Good enough.

Redressing myself was slightly harder due to the immobilization of my joint. Better wrapped than open to infection, I thought. Shrugging my cloak back on and I took a deep breath. Showtime. 

I edged through the door of the pub, glancing about with a slow turn of my head. The pub was decorated with rich burgundies and dark stained wool to keep the stain of coal away. There were not many customers yet, considering all the space to be filled, but it wasn’t slow to worry about service. I kept to myself as I wandered in and found a table in the back corner. 

The subdued lighting made me feel hidden in a way, more capable of being a quiet observer while my brain settled in. People filed the stools lining the bar and I alternated from watching them and reading the menu that was propped up at my table. All the accents, all the species, it was wonderful to listen to so many voices after being alone for so long.

I was so absorbed with listening that I hadn’t realized no one had approached me for an order. Huh. I looked around, confused. There were other people with food and drink and there were plenty of servers, so what was I doing wrong? 

“Hey,” the stranger had to repeat himself before I realized he was talking to me. I jerked my head to the left, towards the table one space over. 

I tried to apologize, but all that came out was a rasp. “Sorry?” I finally responded after clearing my unused throat.

Sitting alone with a deep red beer in front of him, the stranger did not seem overly concerned about much of anything. He certainly wasn’t concerned about steaming his gray tunic, or lacing up his collar. He looked like he could slide out of his banquette seat if he just shifted forward a couple more inches. His worn cloak at least looked as if it were regularly conditioned, but the pin on it was crooked, and the neckline and trim were uneven. 

His stubble was a day or two overdue to be considered intentionally groomed, and his short, dark hair was finger-brushed into place, riding the line between having product in it or just needing to be washed. The stranger moved his pale eyes towards the bar and, without moving his hand from where it rested atop the table, he pointed. “You order up there,” his accent was faint but you could tell he wasn’t from anywhere near the Frontier, or Eastcliff for that matter. 

“Oh,” I chuckled nervously and felt my blood rush up to my face. “Thank you, yeah I was wondering…” I fade off, too embarrassed to finish my sentence. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but the stranger was amused by my embarrassment and chuckled in response. 

I hustled up to the bar and put in an order for stew and a cup of ale. When I returned to my table, I noticed that the stranger had moved closer to my table.

“What ya get?” He slurred.

“Oh, um, some stew,”

“To drink,” he clarified.

Flustered, I looked down and tried not to make eye contact. “Just ale.”

“Not bad,” he nodded as if agreeing with himself. “You alright?”

“Huh?” I looked at him, nothing particularly screamed that he was the sort who was worried about my situation. So he was being polite, he had to be. “Ah, yeah! Got my order in so I should be good now.”

“I assume you’re not from around here?” I froze, was I that obvious?

“Yeah,” I smiled, “what gave it away?”

He chuckled again, “ You don’t exactly order like a local.” He wiped away some errant strands of hair - they were all errant in their way, really - before he sipped more of his beer. “Sorry, ’m not botherin’ ya, am I?”

“No!” I followed suit and took a sip of my ale, drowning almost all of it in one gulp. “No, I’m good. It’s nice to meet anyone really, I’ve been - isolated for some time.”

“I know.” I lifted my eyes in shock, scrambling back away from the table in suspicion. “Now don't be scared, I only want to help you” though the words sounded true, his permanent smirk made me think otherwise.

“I can take you home despite the fact the orcs put a pretty high bounty on your head, only if you pay me double the reward. If not, well you would leave no choice, I know you have the money.”

I gulped down my fears, and despite myself, and shook my head. “No,” I said tentatively. The stranger's face changed from taunting to a twisted smile with just my one word.

“Such bravery,” he said, followed by an amused huff as he stuck out his calloused hand, “Or Stupidity. My name’s Cassian.”