Khazmine's eyes scanned little Aranthus’s tear-stained face for insight. He was shaking and shivering in place, and looked even thinner than the last time they’d met.
Don’t. Don’t do it. Khazmine winced. Don’t get involved with outsiders…
“Please, Lady Kiss-me…” Aranthus pleaded again after Khazmine failed to respond. “He was coughing and cold, and now he’s not moving. Please help. He’s my little brother.”
I don’t have time for this. The mercenaries will be back in less than an hour, and I’ve work to do…
Khazmine pressed her thumb between her brows and squinted her eyes shut. She recognized that Aranthus and Pavocinis were from different species, and not literally related, but the young boy was so insistent that she couldn’t refuse. Khazmine dropped into a squat and gestured for Aranthus to climb on her back.
“There, up we go.” Khazmine shuffled the skinny child into a more comfortable position. “Hang on tightly, little one. Is Pavo where we met last time?”
“Yes, Lady Kiss-me.” Aranthus hugged Khazmine by the neck and allowed his drenched face to press against her shoulder. “Please hurry.”
The pair made their way through the backstreets and byways, past the cemetery and to the familiar hovel by the bone-stone pillar. There, tucked underneath the sailcloth lean-to, laid a cold, motionless child under heaps of filthy cloth and debris. Khazmine approached to examine the tiny boy, and found his skin to be ice cold to the touch.
“He’s still alive, but he won’t last out here.” Khazmine observed. “I am no healer, so I’m not sure how I can help you, little one.”
“Take us with you?” Aranthus creaked.
“What? I’m no parent, either.” Khazmine balked at the suggestion. Not even an adult herself, Khazmine had trouble feeding and clothing one person, let alone providing shelter for two growing boys. “I’ve no means to care for you.”
“But you let us keep the bread.” Aranthus reasoned.
“Bread, yes. Buy I’ve only a single, dingy room in Cheapside, little one.” Khazmine explained.
“We won’t take up much room, I promise!” Aranthus begged.
Aside from the obvious strain on her limited resources, Khazmine brought up the logistics of housing two small children in the shoebox of a rented room. “You’d have no privacy, little space, the nearby mercenaries are mean, and you’ll have to put up with me all the time.”
The midtown Sun Clock cast its gilded midday light overhead for Khazmine to see. She had no time to argue with the pale, gaunt Aranthus, who stood staunchly by and insisted for her not to leave them behind. There were only a few, precious minutes left before the mercenaries would return and expect her to work. Khazmine took a deep breath, clenched the muscles in her face briefly, and sighed.
“FINE. Give him here and climb on.” Aranthus handed the passed-out Pavo to Khazmine and climbed on her back. “Cling tenaciously, Aranthus. I’m going to have to run.”
You’ve lost your mind, Khazmine. She raced back to the guild house through every shortcut she could remember. You’ve no money to feed YOURSELF, let alone two starving children. All you’ve got goes towards renting that crummy room, what could you possibly be thinking—”
Little Pavo stirred in her arms as she dashed through the cobblestone streets. He was desperately skinny, and started shaking like Ruby used to when she was ill. Was this how her big sister felt when they fled the grand mansion after their parents had perished? What little water Pavo had left in his withered body was spent on two meager, errant tears that glistened as they rolled onto Khazmine’s arms.
A thousand curses on my foolish body. Khazmine admonished herself as they returned to the intersection by the mercenary guild house. I’ll drop them off and start my rounds. If anyone catches us, I’ll—
“Oy, half-breed! What’ve you got there?” A particularly salty sell sword mercenary called out to Khazmine. “You bring in a contract on your own then?”
“No such thing, Master Hallem.” Khazmine avoided his appraising gaze. “I’m taking my little brothers home, that’s all.”
“Are you sassing me, half-breed?”
“Not at all, master.” Khazmine bowed her head in deference to him. It was better to scrape and beg forgiveness than to have herself or the boys endure a beating at the hands of this insufferable brute. “We don’t look alike, but I assure you that—”
“Oh, I believe your mother or father’s responsible for more of these bloody useless wastrels.” Hallem sneered, which caused poor Aranthus to cling tighter to Khazmine out of sheer terror. “Get ‘em outta my sight before I send them off to the Wastes.”
“Yes, sir.” Khazmine ducked away from the churlish grump. She darted up to her rented room and dropped off the boys with her last handful of fawns for them to watch over. “Stay here and don’t move, I mean it. I’ll fetch a doctor for Pavo after I’m done with my shift, but only if you stay here and be good, okay?”
Khazmine shuffled off to her afternoon shift, cleaning the guild house and sparring with the new hires. Some of the more brusk mercenaries took glee in tormenting the new half-breed hire, going so far as to throw food on the floor for her to clean or push her aside as they passed. Khazmine humored the unfriendly mercenaries for the handful of coins she could earn each week, but it wasn’t enough to buy her compliance in the sparring arena. Another seasonal rain shower soaked the arena as two opponents stepped back from their spar.
“D*mned wench! You did that on purpose!” Hallem clutched his bleeding face where Khazmine had struck him. He was equipped with a full set of studded leather armor and a sword, while Khazmine had her regular clothes and a homemade bull whip. “Next time, you won’t get a weapon at all! Dirty trash!”
No one came to Master Hallem’s defense, as it was considered laughable that a mere household fetch-and-carry could defeat a well-armed mercenary. Some of his peers stifled laughs at his expense, causing Hallem to fly into a rage. “I demand a rematch!”
“Apologies, master, but I am too tired from the exertion.” Khazmine backed away from her opponent who was turning purple with seething fury. “Perhaps we can try again after I have had some rest and dried off?”
“No, I’ll have my rematch now!” Hallem bellowed. “Ten gold stags are yours for every five minutes we spar. How’s that sound, eh? Not so tired now, are you?”
It was a gift, one that Khazmine couldn’t hope to turn down. The ridiculous bully had challenged her in front of his peers and would have to honor such a pledge under penalty of expulsion from the guild. She was tired, to be sure, but the promise of such a lucrative payout was worth the risk of injury. Ten gold stags could certainly earn little Pavo a fine physician for his cough, and more money meant food, clothing, a trip to the bath house…
A crowd was descending on the sparring arena despite the rain, which included the guild master himself. Every member in attendance frothed at the opportunity to watch some poor beggar girl humble the brash Hallem. He’d gotten a big head after the last mission and was due for a lesson in street tactics, which Khazmine excelled at. The guild master rubbed at his long, chestnut-brown beard and gave an approving nod to Khazmine before she turned back to face her opponent.
“I accept your challenge.” Khazmine resumed her fighting stance and grounded both feet in place for Hallem’s next gambit. “I’m ready when you are.”
Another peel of light from the midtown Sun Clock cast its familiar rays across Old Sarzonn. Aranthus was ignorant of many things, but he did know that Khazmine was due back at their room over an hour ago. Night was falling soon, and she still hadn’t returned. Aranthus placed another thin blanket on a sleeping Pavo before he decided it was high time to investigate and find out what became of Khazmine. He made it all the way to the creaky door before it opened in front of him.
“Oy, Aranthus. Good lad, getting the door.” Khazmine limped in with a nasty gash in her leg and a bloody wound on her temple. The soaking wet half-breed shambled into the room on quaking legs with a physician trailing behind her. Khazmine dropped a heavy sack full of metal coins on the bedside table, along with a gold and green “Initiate” ribbon from the guild master after she’d ensured Hallem’s humiliating defeat on the muddy battlefield. She handed five gold stags to the physician and directed her at the sickly child.
“That’s him, healer. The one on the bed’s got a cough.” Khazmine gestured at Pavo, then to Aranthus. “Take a look at this one, too.”
“I’m more concerned with you at the moment, miss.” The physician countered as Khazmine brushed hair out of Pavo’s face. “Multiple abrasions, contusions, possible concussion, a cracked rib…”
“No. Treat them first.” Khazmine winced as she collapsed at the head of the bed, away from the sleeping Pavo. In the dim candlelight, she could see their family resemblance clearly. “I want the best of care for these two. They’re my little brothers.”
<Diagnostics complete. All primary systems functional. Secondary upgrade scanning in progress.>
Khazmine shuddered back to the present as her system alert pulsed in her peripheral vision. As she reoriented herself to the familiar surroundings, the front door opened to a damp, slumped-shouldered woman who dragged her feet as she trudged inside. Khazmine listened from her perch at the window and recognized the familiar footfalls as belonging to her roommate. “Iris? Is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me, Khaz.” Iris slinked in from the entryway and dropped her faux leather bag haphazardly on the floor after missing the hook it belonged on. “I’ve had a terrible day.”
“Please explain.” Khazmine retracted her charging cable and approached Iris carefully. “I want to help, if I can.”
Iris relayed the events of another trying day at GC&S, including the covert bullying from Claire Donovan, the mixed-up invoice for Helix, Ltd., getting soaked on the way home, and someone had stolen her lunch again. Khazmine listened patiently as Iris leaned against her shoulder for support and comfort.
“I don't know how to be the right person for this job. I don't know how to do anything...” Iris sobbed into her hands. “Some days, I wonder why they hired me in the first place.”
Khazmine pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes as she searched for the right words to say. “It's alright. You're doing an excellent job. Really. It takes time, but you will learn how to do it. Be patient. It will all be easy one day...”
“You think so?" Iris shifted her head from Khazmine's shoulder to her chest. In lieu of a heartbeat, she could hear the musical subtlety of a mechanical hum.
“Most assuredly. What you lack in experience is made up for in tenacity. Be tough, like a mangy marsh hound. Bite hard into what you want and never let go. That way, you'll never be thrown.” Khazmine gently rocked with Iris like she had for her boys many years ago, until the exhausted woman fell asleep in her arms.
“No more tears tonight, little one.” Khazmine pulled a blanket over Iris and the pair rested together on the old, beat-up couch. Khazmine listened to Iris’s gentle breaths and watched the sleeping woman’s tears dry as she slumbered.
The scene reminded Khazmine of those many years ago, when she met her “little brothers” and found a new family on her own. She had worked hard to earn a proper living as a sanctioned mercenary and raised her siblings to be good men, at least until disaster hit Old Sarzonn again. The memory stung Khazmine’s mind and she winced to push it aside, at least until she could plan her next move.
Khazmine held the sleeping Summoner in her arms and shifted her plates to allow Iris to rest more comfortably. As much as the rainfall and her plates reminded Khazmine of her inorganic body, it was nice to remember where everything had begun for her, before the Conversion.
Don’t worry, boys. I haven’t forgotten you. I’m coming home, and I hope you’ll be there, waiting for me…
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