Taking a few moments to collect himself, Andrei quickly got ready for the day, deciding that staying in his room any longer than necessary wouldn’t be good for him. Checking his belongings, he fished for the eye from his bag, reluctantly examining it again. The eye slowly rolled about in his hands, as if taking in the new surroundings as a newborn would in wonder. Eventually, the eye settled on looking at Andrei, just as before the whispers beckoned to him. He stared at the eye in infatuation, trying to understand what was culminating in his mind, piled up on one another. His breath became shallow again as he focused on the most predominant voice. Before he could get reeled in again, he shook his head, getting rid of the whispers as he closed his hand tightly. He had no intention of getting another nightmarish illusion again. After putting the eye back in his bag, he collected himself before going downstairs. He met Emil, who was casually sitting at a table, picking at his plate of food as if a bored child at a dinner table.

Emil lightened up as his eyes shifted from his plate to Andrei, “thank Amoria, thought I’d be waiting all morning for you.” He smiled widely, one that Andrei couldn’t help but reciprocate.

“I’m sure you can handle a few hours by yourself…” Andrei replied in an emotionless voice. “You managed a whole year without me, didn’t you?” Turmoil filled him. On one hand, it was nice to play along with Emil’s rather clear desires, but he also didn’t want to confuse him. The gods knew Andrei felt confusion enough as is. He didn’t need to drag Emil into it as well.

Emil shrugged, “that I did. But I can’t help that I’m… making up for lost time.” Another devious smile pursed his lips as Andrei sat down across from him. Emil’s expression turned from a playful desire to worry as he studied Andrei. “Did you sleep well? You don’t look very rested…”

“I’m fine,” Andrei said plainly, putting his hands in front of him as if it’d stop Emil’s look of concern. “Just a nightmare is all. Let’s just eat and get going. It’ll be good to get some air.”

Andrei ordered a plate of food as well, and the two ate in silence. Once the two were done, they left the building and stepped outside in the morning sun. Without the darkness hiding the unpleasantries, most of the truly unscrupulous people stuck to the dizzyingly winding allies. The light illuminated the shabbily maintained buildings; the materials used to repair the desolate structures clashed with the original materials that struggled to stay together. The way the two styles clashed spoke to him in a way that Andrei could not fully understand.

The people that the duo walked by kept to themselves mostly, but Andrei couldn’t help but feel like they were missing something. The way they walked down the forgotten streets seemed to lack a sense of ambition, or perhaps a glimmer of hope. Conflicted, feeling a moral obligation to help them, Andrei bit his lip, but if they couldn’t help themselves, who was he to intervene? Besides, what could he possibly do? An unsettling tingling feeling overwhelmed his arms and legs, as he felt these conflicting thoughts. He quickened his pace to leave the district, hoping the odd feeling would leave once the two reached Hawthorn Square.

As the day drew on, the two reached the more prosperous side of the city, which starkly contrasted with the worn-down hovels he was just in. The transition was slow and subtle. Every few blocks, the streets appeared less worn and more organized. The buildings and shops that lined the streets had actual windows rather than hastily boarded up frames. The streets grew busy. They looked happy, their noses held high in a level of pretension that reminded Andrei why he preferred to stay in Lower Lapointe. Most looked at Andrei with a mix of curiosity and abject indifference, though not ideal. He’d gladly take that over being attacked. 

Eventually, after ignoring an uncomfortable amount of staring by the well-dressed citizens, the two arrived at the illustrious market. A group of bards were playing violins, drums and flutes, people were dancing together, and merchants called out goods, engaging in conversation with people dressed in fine silks carrying heavy pockets. Andrei swallowed the uncomfortable lump in his throat as he navigated the market. He pushed his way through the busy square with little trouble, much to the annoyance of some browsers. Once he had gotten past the bulk of the crowd, the two could continue at an acceptable pace. The sooner they learned more about this strange eye, the better. Just thinking of how the glass eye rolled around in his bag, trying to observe its captor, conveying an unknown, arcane message… it made him shiver.

Once they were past the market, the duo made their way to some of the extravagant manors of Hawthorn Square. As the bounty hunters approached a tall stone gate separating a lavish manor from the outside world, a guard stood diligently at the watch. The guard was wearing a similar steel armor to the other Veldral guard. The two differences being his lack of a helmet and a lark emblem decorating his chest piece. The human guard stared at the two adventures approaching with his hazel eyes, a notable amount of suspicion aimed at Andrei.

“We have an audience with Lord Nerelle.” Andrei said with authority, standing up straight as if trying to mimic the guard’s strict posture to gain his trust. “He is expecting us.”

The guard scoffed, “I don’t recall Lord Nerelle expecting a Bilgeborn to visit him.” His voice was harsh and despite Andrei putting on a front, his words cut deep. “Just a few mercenaries, as far as I know.”

Andrei tightened his fist momentarily in anger before releasing it as he spoke, “that would be us.” He pulled out the leather book he’d taken from Jean and showed it to the guard. One would think that after hearing such words enough, it’d be easier to stomach, but that wasn’t the case for the young Half-Lílakdal.

The guard looked at the book before returning his attention to the visibly annoyed men in front of him. “A mercenary? I figured you’d be-” the guard stopped himself, as if knowing better than further insult the man before him. “My apologies,” he said, his voice lower and bowing shortly in respect, “you may both enter.”

The two walked past the guard and approached the estate. Andrei gave another glance at the guard, who, to his credit, appeared genuine with his apology. Andrei glanced at Emil’s unreadable expression, surprised he didn’t speak up. He turned his attention to the manor. It wasn’t the most extravagant home he’d seen in his journeys, but it was clear the owner, like most who lived in Veldral, had wealth and were not afraid to show it. A well-maintained lawn greeted them. Each blade of grass seemed to be uniform, and a small garden of roses stretched out from the right side of the house. The stoic, cold stone walls clashed with the garden, creating an aura of authority. Despite the amount of years the house had purportedly stood, the place showed very little wear and tear. He wondered if they replaced the stones at the first appearance of the slightest imperfection.

The tall, sturdy mahogany doors had an intricate design of vines and flowers painstakingly carved into its surface. Andrei slowly brushed his hand against the design, his finger tracing over every crevice. He admired the work put into it and almost didn’t want to knock out of respect for the carpenter who crafted it; unfortunately, “almost” wasn’t enough. Somehow, the knocking sounded just as regal as the rest of the building. He wondered if the owner had it enchanted somehow to make it fancier, and the humorous thought made the serious bounty hunter chuckle softly to himself, much to Emil’s confusion.

After waiting patiently at the door for a minute, resisting the urge to knock again, the old door slowly creaked open. On the other side was an Elven man with a stiff expression. The man stood tall, his back straight, showing off a worn, purple overcoat. His lips tightened, and he raised an eyebrow, poorly copying the look of a condescending noble. His gleaming hazel eyes attempted to pierce through the visitor, but it seemed they had lost their sharpness a long time ago. His face softened slightly as he continued to size up Andrei, recognizing a comforting familiarity within him.

“May I help you?” The servant asked in a snooty voice, dusting off the worn overcoat that no doubt belonged to the last poor soul that worked there.