Year 351 after the War of the Gods, Summer

Merun, Capital of the Empire 

Accompanied by an organic, wet-slimily cutting sound, of meat and scraping of bone Giræsea pulled her sword from the lifeless body of the avius and hung it back in her belt. She didn’t bother with the body. Let whoever had sent him here pick him up again; maybe they would finally get the message. She hurried to get some distance between herself and the scene of the attack. The guards wouldn’t be long off and she really didn’t want to have to explain the whole situation to them. She really didn’t need another Kinbay.

Hopefully Thorgest wasn’t too worried about her right now. She had very little desire to return to the inn, realise that he had gone out again to look for her and then go looking for him herself. The hours she had already spent in this cursed maze of an Imperial City had already been more than enough. All she longed for was a cup filled to the brim and a bed. Not even a soft bed; just a bed. And she longed for Älyan's touch. Maybe she was still awake.

Damned city! If the assassin had just had the balls to attack her sooner, she now wouldn’t have to walk so far. She was insanely happy be finally be rid of him even if it was far closer than she would have liked.

Back at the intersection leading to the main road of this ring Giræsea looked left. She couldn’t go there. The whole thing with the beggar had drawn too much attention. Why did he have to follow her for that long? Did she look that rich? To the right then. She was going to miss the neatly ordered streets up here. Just one street down she turned left again, one block down to the right again. In that manner she zigzagged through the geometry of a city causing her more than a minor headache. Humans, dwarves and felines for the most part gave her a wide berth and Giræsea was glad for the unsteady light of the torches – who could tell how they might react if they noticed the blood. Perhaps Varnith would be merciful and bless her with a well somewhere. She wanted to wash her hands.

This ring - bordered on both sides by walls that rose high into the sky over several storeys and with countless battlements, towers and castles that were in danger of touching the clouds - served as a market for the people of Merun. The entire ring. Encircling the entire city. Giræsea was fascinated by this peculiarity of the Imperial City. The citizens of the other rings, the Uppercity high on the mountain and the city in the stone all vicited this central ring. She wasn’t really sure in what way it made any sense to arrange a market like this. Apart from maybe spending an entire day walking in a circle and admiring all the wares on display. A thought that had actually occurred to her and which she had also already discussed with Älyan. Well, it had never happened. They both knew why.

Giræsea could have sworn the trek back should have been half as short, but finally she made it, standing in front of the gate through which she had entered the market a couple of hours ago. Deeply set into the awe inspiring wall, which seemed to support the weight of the mountain behind it, so it didn't spill out like a pile of wet sand and which separated her impassably from the first ring of the Uppercity, this gate led down into the stone. Into the hive of the lower city. She snorted as she passed the guards; both of them almost asleep on their feet. Back down again…

Before her opened up a sheer endless tunnel - stone at every side and night deep in its throat. Deep, deep, deep into the mountain the wound was torn, with steady strikes and clear cuts. And then the light behind her was ousted to the surface as the gate was shut and the mountain swallowed her whole.

Without the glow of the many torches and lanterns, her eyes became more accustomed to the darkness with every step and soon she could make out the first outlines of the hive in the omnipresent murky light. There was no order here, no rings partitioning the city, no streets, just abandoned plans of structure and the clear lines marking the entrance to the Undercity soon vanished. Fiercely the city grew in and out of the stone. Caves and tunnels dug where there was room, chambers made of wood or steel or dividers of simple linen where needed.

Giræsea’s path led her past the few shops that had gathered just beyond the gate. Unlike the market outside, there was silence. Without paying them any further mind, she walked down the two flights of stairs to what had probably once been intended as the third floor, before the buildings had started to spread like a mushroom and eat their way deeper into the stone on all sides.

Further down, the shouts of an argument echoed up a broad shaft. In response someone further up on a balcony shouted something foul in a language she didn’t understand, then laughed and took another drag on his pipe. Someone stepped out next to him and they talked quietly.

Deeper and deeper she descended into the bowels of Merun. Suspicious of every dark alleyway. Maybe they weren’t this dumb after all and had sent more than just one assassin after her. Only once she saw the door to their inn did she allow herself to take a deep breath. It was nestled into a recess in the mountain and intergrew with the stone as if it had always been there. In front of small windows set into wooden walls hung small planters with a wide variety of colourful mushrooms. Despite the late hours, warm candlelight still shone through the dull-green window glass from inside and Giræsea was glad the counter was still occupied. One glance back into the ever-night of the mountain, then she stepped through the door.

A chandelier at the centre of the taproom - some candles already fully burnt down - kept the darkness from the street at bay with its last, warm light before - even here - the day finally had to come to an end and the last of the guests had to make their wine-prolonged journey to their beds. Two of them were still sat in an alcove talking quietly and when Giræsea opened the door, they quickly turned to her before falling into an awkward silence; the cups in front of them empty and the candle burnt out. A third hung over his table, snoring loudly.

She stepped into something sticky and continued walking.

Behind the dark wood counter, decorated with scratches and involuntary carvings, the owner sat in a chair and slept peacefully. His glasses had slipped off his nose and his whiskers occasionally twitched with a light breath. The corpulent feline had given them a warm welcome on their first day here in Merun and had taken good care of them ever since.

She sat down heavily on a stool at the bar and placed two silver crowns in front of the innkeeper with a loud CLINK. She would have allowed him his sleep - it was well into the night - but if she had to be awake still, then he might as well serve her. He startled awake. “What? Oh! Yes! Of course!” He adjusted his glasses. “Our esteemed guest from the far west. What can I do for you?”

An amused smile crept onto her lips as he smoothed his hair in the reflection on a bottle. “Kaheb, what you got for me?”

“I know I promised you something from Diræth'Asin, I know, I know, I know. But the delivery is still out.” He turned around to the shelf filled with bottles and ran his finger across various labels. “But maybe this would be something for you.” By then he had reached the shelves of unlabelled bottles and was crouching behind the counter.

“You know I’m not picky. Show me what you got.” The poor guy went to far too much trouble with them. And that night, she didn't have the nerve for it. She wanted a cup. Filled up all the way. And then she wanted to go to bed.

“No, no. Only the best will do for my guests. Here we go.” Kaheb placed a bottle made of dark glass on the table. “The man who sold this to me said he got it from Tel Sent. I don’t exactly know what it is either. Shall we open it?”

Giræsea agreed with a flick of her wrist and a nod, and the feline set about removing the wax around the seal with a knife. She doubted that the bottle had really travelled all the way from Tel Sent just to end up in the Undercity.

“Did the dwarf walk past here?”, she asked casually.

“Oh, yes. He came back a few hours ago and didn’t seem particularly pleased. Talked to me here for a while before going off to his room.” The wax was gone and struggled with the cork now. “I might be out of line, but your companion… She hasn’t left her room all day again. Is everything allright?”

Of course he had to ask. But he sure as fuck wouldn’t get an answer. “Everything’s fine.” She placed a few more silver crowns on the counter for him, took the bottle and two cups and left him standing there. Without turning around again, she held up the bottle - “Thanks for that” - and disappeared from the taproom.

She probably should have discussed her plans with Älyan and Thorgest a little more, but then Thorgest would probably have insisted on accompanying her. And that, in turn, would have only led to another situation like the one in Rúnknǫttr. Probably. Only with a lot more beard involved. Well, everything had gone allright.

Shortly before reaching her room, she already found him standing there in his nightgown. One hand in his braided beard, the other on his hip.

“So, the young lady returns at last.”

She almost had to laugh. “Calm down, old man. Not all of us live to be hundreds of years old. Here, take this.” She offered the bottle to him. “That might relax you a little.” Maybe he even bought that she hadn’t just been fighting for dear life.

He ignored the bottle. “Look at yourself… one arm still half paralysed. You took the antidote far too late! You know it will get you killed if you’re this careless.”

Of course he knew exactly what had gone down. And he had noticed the missing antidote. And of course he only had her well-being in mind, she knew all that. If it had only been an hour earlier that evening, she might even have appreciated it.

“I had to make sure she showed himself. Do you think an avius would face an Orc under normal circumstances?”, Giræsea tried to justify herself.

He scratched his chin. “An avius? In Merun? Not the most inconspicuous choice.” He was right, but she was too tired to give it much thought right now.

“I don’t know… Maybe they’re not so bright after all. What do you expect from three idiots who have never left the Sea of Sands?”

“You’re underestimating the Kurr. They’ve been hunting you left the Sea of Sands”, Thorgest said, visibly worried.

“Yes. And so far it's worked out every time, hasn't it?”

“But that will change if we stay here for too long. You're not exactly subtle. How many orcs have you seen in Merun?” He was right. Of course he was right. It was awful.

“Thorgest, please. Do we have to discuss all this here and now? You know as well as I do why we're here. We'll get out of here as quickly as we can.”

Giræsea pushed past him and stepped through the door behind him into her room. She turned to him once more - “Tomorrow we'll find him and then we'll be out of here” - and closed the door behind her.