“That is a fine name… and a fine blade.” Dovhran hummed curiously from behind Mae.

The dwarf quickly spun around and whacked the changeling across the side of his knee.

“Goodness, don’t startle me like that!” Mae clearly had not heard Dovhran approach, and to be fair, Flip had only noticed him walk up behind her because he was facing that direction.

Dovhran was doing his best not to looked pained by the hit, but he couldn’t hide the clench of his jaw or the narrowing of his eyes that accompanied the obvious pain.

“You took your sweet time getting here.” Flip chastised the changeling.

Dovhran’s expression of reserved pain slowly drew into a glare as the pain faded and something else set in. Flip was tempted to call it resentment, or perhaps displeasure; regardless, what was clear was that it was not a positive emotion.

“I figured we’d both like some time to ourselves. The horse wasn’t too pleased with the incline in the road leading up to town either.” Dovhran sighed, settling back into his more easygoing and sociable expression. “We’re overdue for a meeting with our navigator, they’ve been waiting in town for a while now and I’m not sure if the funds I’ve left for them have run out or not.”

Flip turned to address Rovik and Bronson, both gave a respectful and knowing nod. The silent respectful gesture looked like it made Dovhran uncomfortable, or maybe confused.

“Yes, well…” Dovhran hummed. “Thank you for taking care of my wizard. Hearth’s blessing upon you. I’ll being waiting at the cart.”

The mercenary left in a quick turn without his usual air of superiority and confidence.

“Careful Bron, if you put much more fear of the hearth in that boy he’ll never be warm again.” Mae chuckled.

“Thank you, Mae. Bronson. Rovik.” Flip gave each dwarf an awkward but sincere smile. His beard covered most of it, but the dwarves each smiled in return. “I hope to return soon. Hopefully this work will not take too long.”

“You are welcome here any time, Faengil.” Bronson grunted. “Keep yourself safe.”

Flip waited another hesitant moment in the workshop before making his way back out through the temple, to the room where Flip had rested to retrieve his hatch, and to the small path that led from the temple’s front door to the road. The same horse and cart that Flip had spent so long riding on before arriving in Norwen was waiting on the dirt road. The horse looked tired, the mercenary ready to drive it on looked perplexed. No words were exchanged immediately, and it wasn’t until Flip was settled on the back of the cart and the horse was motivated to lumber further into town that Dovhran spoke.

“I take it your bargain assured Rovik of his resources?”

“I believe it did.”

“And he was just lingering in the temple? Gawking at swords?”

“He nearly collapsed on the way into town, they had him resting. He’ll likely leave soon. I imagine my presence there made the whole temple… uncomfortable. But it was quite pleasant.”

“Did you do the ant spell?”

Flip was confused for a moment, unclear how the mercenary knew about that particular piece of magic. He had only used it twice in recent memory; once for the stump and before that for… the bricks. It occurred to Flip that Dovhran had probably been following him throughout the entirety of his time in Builend since returning from Westcross. The implication made him deeply uncomfortable, but Flip decidedly did not call Dovhran out on that matter.

“They asked for help with digging out a stump… I didn’t have anything else prepared to do so without causing a larger amount of destruction that requested.”

“So you aren’t opposed to destruction?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Dovhran paused. “I’m asking if you mind using destructive magic.”

“I use only the magic that is required to complete a task.” Flip let out a humph of resentment, as if offended that anyone would think otherwise. “If my task is to make a crater, I make a crater.”

“How pragmatic of you.” Dovhran pulled the reins and stopped the horse in front of a worn out tavern that looked like it may have been the only one in the small town of Norwen. “I ask because I’m debating how well you’ll get along with our guide. They can be… destructive might be too much… pernicious?”

As if on cue a bar stool was thrown out of a mostly already broken window on the street side of the tavern, landing mere feet from the side of the cart.

“Do they throw furniture through windows often?”

“No. No I think that’s someone else.” Dovhran leapt down and hitched the horse to the side of the tavern. “They wouldn’t risk having to pay for damages.”

With the little information that Flip was being given, he began to form an image of the navigator in his mind. A violent and shrewd figure, expressions indicative of their nature, but no features. The figure became tall and looming in Flip’s mind, growing more and more familiar of persons he disliked. As the connections to real people became unpleasant, Flip forced himself to think of other things. Things like mountains and shadowy figures looming on the crest of a monumental pale stone ridge. The alternative wasn’t much better, but Flip took comfort in the impersonal nature of a less identifiable threat.

The mercenary lead the way into the tavern, pushing open the door with his foot a peering carefully to the side where the window had just been broken. Without any further comment or indication, Dovhran walked all the way in and made his way to a booth on the far corner of the space. Flip followed close behind, looking around in the same direction as he walked through the door to see a table where two dwarves were scuffling about on the tavern floor next to a small table that had been toppled over. They had grown quieter as new strangers had entered the space, but they were still growling at each other in the local dwarven dialect.

With the source of the dispute squared away in Flip’s mind, his eyes followed Dovhran to the back of the tavern where he had sat down with a hooded figure. It was a taller humanoid form, lean the skin Flip could see from this distance was a soft caramel color; as though it were a very fair skin tone that had been tanned. Nothing stood in his way, and the changeling had begun leering in Flip’s direction, so the wizard quickly shuffled over to the booth and took a seat. Dovhran, squarely sandwiched between the two new acquaintances, held out a hand to the hooded figure. “This is Selian Farwysher. Selian, this is Faengil Hasterath, arcanist of the Finnegan clan.”

Flip paled at the formal introduction. The figure beneath the cloak issued a hissing snarl as well, though flip was not immediately sure why.

“You hired someone else?” Selian spoke for the first time, revealing a gentler voice than Flip had anticipated. And that was when it all clicked. This was an elven woman, proud and reserved, rarely seen in open public. Despite all the grace in her voice, this woman was silently furious.

“I told you I was going to find someone that could help with some of the getting through the crypt part.”

“I thought you meant you were going to get information from an expert, not hire a… wizard?”

“I take no pleasure in being here either…” Flip hesitated before using the elf’s name. Their introduction had been so forced it hardly seemed appropriate. “Lady Farwysher. But I’ve been forced into this work.”

“Keep your voice down!” Selian hissed. “I’ve taken care not to tell to many people my name and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Something about the desperation in her voice as she requested Flip not to use her name reminded him of something he had felt each time Dovhran had introduced him to someone new. He had never ventured to introduce himself, and each time the deed had been done for him it felt wrong.

“Right, our friend travels under the name Rain.” Dovhran let out a sigh at the name. “No family name, she’s quite adamant on that.”

The name Farwysher sounded familiar, which raised Flip’s suspicions, but he couldn’t place why it sounded familiar or where he might have heard it before. It was a strange realization, as Flip seldom socialized and tended to remember the names of people he had met quite well. Forgetting a name or face was beyond uncommon, it was outright strange. Without any real recognition though, Flip gave a nod in respect of the elf’s wishes to remain anonymous.

“Se… Rain… our new friend Faengil is a wizard of curious skill. He’s quite adept at using magic in unorthodox ways. In fact, the vast majority of spells I’ve seen him use I haven’t seen anywhere else.” Dovhran gave an approving nod in Flip’s direction as he spoke. “He’s quite highly ranked within the violet cords as well, and has some interesting connection that might prove useful.”

“You’re hardly an archmage, but I suppose one of those wouldn’t be as cheap.” Selian sighed. “A pleasure to meet you, Faengil. I hope you can keep up.”

“We should have a drink to celebrate our imminent departure into the unknown… enjoy civilization for one last time for who knows how long.” Dovhran had begun to smile widely. Even as he spoke he signaled to the man behind the bar table to send over three drinks.

Before either Flip or Selian could object, drinks were placed on the table in front of them and Dovhran was already happily gulping his down. Nothing of Selian’s expression could be determined beneath her hood, but she pulled her tankard towards her and wrapped her hands around it comfortably. Flip looked down at his own drink in an uncomfortable moment of introspection. He did not dislike drink, but it felt wrong. There in a tavern, surrounded by strangers, under the suggestion of Dovhran; none of it seemed to add up to something worthy of drinking to. While Dovhran chugged away at his tankard and Selian took the occasional sip of hers, Flip merely wrapped his hands around his tankard and held it at bay on the rough wooden table’s surface.

“I hope I didn’t take too long. I only left you enough money for about a week’s stay, so I can refresh your share if you like.” Dovhran seemed much more relaxed with a drink in him.

“I didn’t spend a link of what you gave me.” Selian let out a huff of satisfaction. “I managed to keep a room and food for honest labor. It’d be a waste to have to spend the money you’re paying me with just to get to the actual work you hired me for.”

“Of course you didn’t spend anything… of course.” Dovhran muttered, his drink actually starting to become apparent. “Why aren’t you drinking Faengil? No one’s stopping you.”

“I should get my hatch from the cart. I don’t want to leave it out on the street.” Flip awkwardly rose from his seat, letting go of his tankard, and turned to head for the door. Oddly, he wasn’t alone.

“I have a small matter to attend to before we leave as well. I will return shortly.” Selian rose from her place in the corner booth and quickly outpaced Flip as she headed for the door.

“Okay… I guess I’ll just drink for all of us then!” Dovhran called out from the table. He didn’t seem upset. Maybe bored. Flip couldn’t be sure. Drunk people were much harder to understand.

As Flip walked out of the tavern and back into daylight, he realized how dark it had been inside. The sun was hurting his eyes, but between his squinting eyelids he could make out the form of Selian darting across the small street and into a building across the way. Flip initially ignored the elf as he made his way around the cart to retrieve his hatch. Even as he was relieved to find it still in place, he realized what the building across the way was. The large wooden board that hung above the door had a faded painting of a mortal and pestle on it and wording that read ‘apothecary’ in golden lettering. It seemed like an old establishment, with a meager store front. At least from the outside.

There was little to be seen inside the apothecary through its front windows from as far away as Flip was. Rather than return to Dovhran, Flip indulged his curiosity and wandered across the street to glare through the windows a the items on display. The windows were packed with odd plants and vials of liquid advertising various purposes for them, showing everything from hair growing balm to potions of wound sealing. And beyond the displays, Flip could make out the shape of the elf behind the counter of the store. Without her hood now down, Flip could make out more of her features through the window; the most striking of which were her long dark golden tresses. Though beyond the obvious features, there was little that Flip could make out past the glare on the glass.

He must have been looking for too long, because eventually the elf’s eyes shot up from whatever work she was doing to the front window where Flip was peering in. There was a visible drop to her shoulders before she raised a hand to motion Flip into the store. After some hesitation, Flip complied with the gestured direction and walked into the small apothecary. The smells of herbs and chemicals immediately filled his nose and quickly became overwhelming. After a fit of coughing, Flip pulled his shirt up to cover his face and block out as many of the smells as he could. The old fabric was serviceable, but not very.

“What do you want?”

“I would like very much to get back to the research I was conducting at home, but I don’t think that’s what you meant.”

“I mean, why did you follow me over here?”

“Curiosity.” Flip felt bad about following her the short distance, but it hadn’t really even been intentional when he saw her walk into the building from across the street. There wasn’t really any expectation of privacy walking into a store through its front doors. Going across the street to see what she was doing had, perhaps, been a small invasion on privacy.

“Well, I’ve been doing light work here while I waited. So, consider your curiosity satisfied.” Selian made a frown with one side of her mouth while pulling the rest tight into a firm flat line.

She was strange looking now that Flip was seeing her face up close. Elves all had a feeling of being otherworldly, mostly because they were, but in most cases Flip had acclimated to that feeling quickly. Of all the elves he had interacted with in Builend, none had struck him as so strange though. Perhaps it was that she was doing work in a space clearly made for a dwarf to do so, but even then there was something else more central to her appearance that Flip couldn’t quite identify as out of place.

“You’re staring at me.”

“You have yellow eyes.” Flip muttered, his own eyes finally landing on the thing that had bothered him.

“Yes. And you have a very blunt approach to people.” Selian retorted. “It’s quite rude.”

“I have never met an elf with yellow eyes.” Flip hummed.

“And I have never met a child with so little tact.” Selian was beginning to grow upset, her already strained lips beginning to take the shape of a full on frown. “So unless you intend to buy something, I suggest you go back to the tavern and wait for me to complete this last batch of potions… I agreed to do these yesterday, but didn’t get to them.”

“I don’t suppose I need any of these, I have my own supply.” Flip lifted up his hatch in indication. The gesture was met with mild confusion. “But I have no desire to drink with Dovhran… perhaps I will wait in the cart.”

“Fair enough.” Selian sighed. “Now leave.”

The elf gestured to the door before returning to the work that Flip had interrupted; crushing up what looked like a catleaf sprig and a root that Flip didn’t recognize. She was practically doubled over the table every time she had to apply force to the mortal and pestle.

Without anything else to see or say, Flip ambled out of the apothecary and back to the cart. After reassuring the horse that it did not need to move, Flip hefted himself up onto the back ledge of the cart and leaned back until he was lying down on his back with the hatch held tightly against his chest.

Listening to the sounds of the town of Norwen was relaxing. After a short while, Flip managed to sleep.

“We are connected. Come closer. Become connected.”