It was early morning in the city of Yikensworth when Drac came out of the Oily Inn. When he let the door swing shut he was greeted by the frowning figure of one Brair Rose.

‘That is her,’ he confirmed. In the light of day, he found that – except for her red hair – she was quite different than what he’d initially assumed in the darkness.

Brair looked closer to her late twenties, wearing an iron breastplate over a padded tunic which accentuated her arms, green trousers which were neatly tucked into her clean boots, and metal-plated leather gloves. She wore a red thread loosely around her neck, and a black one so tight it looked like a collar displaying her identification as a mercenary – a metal plate with two lines etched into it. The last thing he noticed was her scar which was almost hidden in the shadow of her nose, on the depression where her cheek and nose met.

“You ready?” she asked, taking a stride towards him.

Drac simply nodded and led the way down the street with her following behind closely. They walked through the streets for some time silence, taking to the alleys for shortcuts until they reached the building they were looking for – The Mercenary Guild.

The guild was commonplace in all cities – that could afford its services – throughout the kingdoms. Despite being a city at the border, Yikensworth kept a strong force of mercenaries roaming its streets. Mercenaries or Mercs were used for various activities ranging from gathering unusual herbs for resident alchemists to slaying beasts or large animals because they threatened the safety of the locals. Instead of Ansdrovean guards dying over an unlucky encounter protecting curious alchemists gathering herbs, the mercenaries were used. They were more expendable.

Fortunately, the guilds made sure to treat them well, else there wouldn’t be as many as there were in the kingdoms to perform such tasks. They made sure each merc received his or her payment properly per their achievements. Additionally, they compensated the employers if the mercenaries broke their agreement and punished those contract breakers harshly. The jobs were usually very dangerous, in which failure to succeed was death.

The first thing he saw as he entered the building was the counter at the front, where three of the guild’s green garbed receptionists greeted the mercenaries with smiles - each representing a different time of life. Drac saw the eldest receptionist, to the left, lock eyes with him before whispering something to her juniors: a middle-aged brunette, and young blond.

Brair had already left for the giant notice board to the right of the counter, beside the stairs leading to the first floor, while Drac stayed behind – observing the various groups a moment longer.

Mercs were scattered across the entire building; there were large warriors in full plate armour, nimble fellows in light armour bearing bows, people in turbans and robes adorned in all manner of symbols - likely the more adventuring sort of alchemists, and robed flow readers with their staves decorated in precious metal nuggets. It was rare to see so many figures of such variety in a city let alone a small room such as this, but then again, Ansdrovea was known for having the most diverse people as its residents.

Brair was still combing through the different requests that each parchment presented when Drac joined her, but before she could grab one he was already taking his find for processing at the counter.

“Hey, what’cha find?” Brair asked boorishly as she walked over to catch up.

“Easy money”, he replied, giving his parchment to the receptionist in the middle.

“Oh yeah, me too?” she leaned over and slammed her parchment beside his.

“Ummm” the receptionist looked at him with a troubled face after reading his proposed contract. “This is a rank 3 contract.”

“I know. That is why I took it.”

“*Sigh* You said it was easy money,” Brair said before lightly punching his pauldron. “That’s not something someone your rank can do. Heck, even I’m not allowed to do that alone.”

“‘A group of two with a two-strike mercenary can request for a rank 3 job’, or so spoken by your senior,” he nodded to the older woman. She looked up from her work and replied sternly, “Mina, please take care of this yourself, you know the rules”, before returning to her logbook.

“I’m sorry sir, I cannot allow you to do that. You two may be applicable for our rank 3 contracts but we also have to consider the risks that can come with allowing only a One-Strike and Two-Strike mercenary team.” The receptionist answered. “Please find a more suitable assignment for you both?”

“You speak of rules, and happily enforce them when necessary but aren’t willing to accept them when they are inconvenient for you? What a quaint sense of humour you people have.”

“Get over it greenhorn, that’s life.” Brair pushed her contract atop his, shoving him to the side. “We’ll be accepting this one, Mina.”

“Oh, uh,” she cringed. “I’m sorry Rose, but someone has already claimed that contract.”

“Then why was this up there?” Brair frowned.

“I-I must’ve forgotten to pull them all down. I, um, I can make it a joint contract if you want - with the head receptionist’s permission of course.” Mina glanced at the older woman sitting beside her. Drac keenly watched the wrinkles around her eyes multiply as she crinkled her skin and rubbed her eyes in exhaustion.

“It’s still morning?” he heard her mutter before addressing Mina. “Very well, if all mercenaries involved will accept it we will make the contract a joint one.”

“What’s a joint contract again?” Brair asked.

“In such a contract,” Mina explained as she began filling out a form she’d taken from under the desk. “Both parties will receive the same amount of reward discussed in the contract, but to do so both parties will need to designate one person to claim it when it’s completed and complete it in half the given time. All join contracts must be extermination or exfiltration and held within the country. Please sign here.”

“It's contents?” He asked.

"Does it really matter to you?" Brair asked as she signed.

"Curious."

“Extermination of pests in the White Forest near a couple of villages south of here,” Brair explained. “We gotta finish it in a week to get the reward so you better pack quick. Do you need to?”

“No.”

“Gonna need more than what you got down there,” she remarked at his many pouches tried to his waist.

“This much is enough,” he replied.

“Brair? I need the signature of the other group leader before I can approve your contract.”

"Alright, so I take it that the group that claimed it didn't leave yet."

“Right you are,” someone said walking behind her. The man leaned against the table and took the quill and paper out of the receptionist’s hand, snaking his arms around Brair before retreating. “Like old times eh Rose?”

“No…,” Brair whispered. She didn’t turn around immediately, allowing Drac to register the expressions of shock, sadness and anger which successively morphed into the other. She turned her back to him and faced the newcomer.

“It is nice to see you again,” the blond man revealed a bright smile. His green eyes travelled over to Drac and he asked. “Who’s your new friend?”

Before any of them could respond to someone else interrupted from the doorway; “Is that you, Brair?”

From the corner of his helm, Drac saw a group of three - two men and a kid - approach them. Their Strike-Three metal plates glittered around their necks. Drac silently watched Brair’s tense posture relax, and her hand that was creeping to a knife hidden between her leather armour and gambison withdraw.

"Come on Drac, we’ll find some other work,” she said.

“What is it, Rose? I just returned-”, the man tried but Brair raised her hand to interrupt.

“You don't get to act like this. Like you haven't done everything that you have the past year because you returned from the dead. I already said my goodbyes the week after the news. Don't make it any harder to...”

"Any harder to what? To attack me? If that's what you want then go ahead," Peter took the hidden knife from Brair and pushed it in her hand before pulling her hand to his neck. "I didn't just go through almost dyin' at Chimeran hands ta return to this. Brair I wanna end this now, so ya either do this or ya forgive me."

When she didn't make a move Peter shouted: "Come on." and got punched across the jaw.

"You don't get to make this choice, not after you slept with another woman behind my back." Brair placed her knife back and cracked her knuckles. "I'll make my own choices now."

The blond man looked at a loss for words. Peter rubbed his jaw and looked over them both until his eyes fixed onto Drac's visor. He felt the tension in the air shift towards him. He stood in place waited for the blond to attack.

“Peter!” Someone shouted from the side. He looked over and saw another blond, at the head of the group, smiling at the bruised man.

“Why don’t you go help Fliss find us a table upstairs for Volvo? You know his knees aren’t what they used to be.”

“Uh, yeah sure,” Peter responded noncommittally. As he stalked up the stairs, following the older man and the younger boy the other blond replaced him and focused Brair with a rueful smile.

“Sorry about the fake news,” he asked.

“When I said I'd said my goodbyes, I meant it for you all. It was better when I thought you were all dead.”

“All of us? Or just Peter?” he cocked an eyebrow.

“Alright, maybe I was a little upset for Fliss,” she smirked.

“Who wouldn’t be, 'brain’s' the most likeable of us all,” the blond joked. He looked over to Drac before addressing Brair again, “Do you mind if we talk in private? Your friend here can join the others in the meantime.”

“Sure, think you can do that big guy?” she asked without turning around.

“This must be the ‘emotional baggage’ everyone has been gossiping about,” he remarked before walking between them, pushing them aside, to climb the stairs. He stopped at the top step and looked down to see them walk out of the building. He spied on the first floor, above the receptionist area, at the waiting area fitted with a bar along the entire wall - the blond’s friends were not there. Continuing straight from the stairs he walked down a corridor and quietly listened for the voices behind the doors that lined the hallway.

Finding the familiar voice of the blond Drac lightly knocked on the door. Waiting a few seconds before allowing himself in where he was greeted with frowns from all of the room’s occupants. The long table, where everyone was seated, was big enough to seat at least 6 people. The brunette kid and the blond man had occupied one end of the table while the elder had occupied a seat opposite them. The oldest man, with greying hair, asked; “Did Luvrit send you?”

Drac nodded before taking his place at the corner of the wall facing everyone. He folded his arms and leaned against the wall, but after the long scream of a creak the wooden wall gave out he decided to just stand. The atmosphere, instead of being lighthearted from his attempt to induce laughs as he’d expected, was thick with tension. That is until the youngest spoke up.

“Have you known miss Rose long?”

“No,” he replied curtly. After a moment the boy tried again; “How did you meet her?”

“She tackled me...chasing a midget thief,” Drac said, noticing the shift in Peter’s eyes.

“You know something Peter?” the older man, Volvo, asked - noticing the shift as well.

“I uh, I think I might’ve seen him around the city,” Peter said but kept his head lowered. His eyes, however, travelled over to Drac and he eagerly asked; “That’s a pretty good armour you got there, where’d you buy that? It’s not Ansdrovean design.”

“I found it during the Black Perevorot.”

“You’re Ruvskian?” Volvo asked, surprised.

Drac nodded which caused worried looks to be cast amongst the younger men, only Volvo held his gaze before adopting a smile.

“Well, at least something good came from that horrible mess. I’d like to hear about our silent neighbours up north after we’re done here.”

Just then the door opened and the blond walked in, closely followed by Brair. She acknowledged him with a nod and greeted the others similarly – except the blond: Peter – before sitting opposite Luvrit at the furthest end of the table.

“Well, before we start I think we should get the introductions out of the way,” Luvrit said. He turned towards Drac and asked; “Care to begin?”

He sighed: “I’m Drac, stay out of my way when we’re fighting and we’ll be good.”

“Okay. I’m Luvrit and since I’ll be leading this team,” Luvrit sent a look to the old man who nodded in return causing a smile to form, “I’ll need you to follow my lead when the time comes. Can I count on you for that?”.

Assessing Luvrit Drac noted that other than the blond hair he also had the typical blue eyes indigenous of the Ansdrovean Kingdom, and while there were no other distinguishing features on him, he looked quite handsome amongst the commoners, considering his profession. He wore leather armour riveted with metal plates — strips of metal plates were woven into a leather base — and carried two swords strapped to his sides. Luvrit seemed strong enough to hold his own in a fight but his mannerisms were too...sophisticated for his line of work to consider him trustworthy. Still, Drac hesitantly nodded, tucking that observation to the back of his mind.

The other similarly armoured blond halfheartedly spoke next; “I’m Peter, and I can’t wait to see what you’ve got in store for us if we gotta ‘stay out of your way’.” He had green eyes and a cleft chin with a slight stubble growing there. He was slender and long-limbed but also as muscular as Luvrit, sporting a quiver strapped to his back and carrying two short-swords – likely the scout of the group. He exuded an aura of confidence and smugness which most likely would prove dangerous when fighting someone who he couldn't get a read on.

“I’m Fliss, it’s nice to meet you,” the young boy eagerly spoke up. Drac glanced over to him, not once moving his head, and saw Brair engaging the tyke in a hushed discussion which made him blush furiously. Fliss sported dark brown hair with green eyes, and unlike the tanned skin of the other members, his was pale. He wore a large cloak which hid his armour, there was no doubt of whether he wore armour - they all did in this profession, and held a wooden staff with metal nuggets embedded in the top end between his legs. His countenance suggested a meekness about him which made him seem trustworthy, but it could’ve been the adolescent features he’d retained which attracted him to care. He was, obviously, in touch with the flow which made it hard to gouge his strength. That made him unpredictable until he knew how far along the kid was.

“It’s nice to have you back Brair,” the boy whispered, shying away from the woman ruffling his hair.

“Couldn’t’ve said it better myself,” Peter said, slapping Fliss on the back which earned him a girlish yelp. When the boy glared at him, the blond kissed the air and whispered something in his ears which caused him to turn red. Surprisingly, this irked Brair as she scooted the boy away and began to ignore the reproachful blond.

*Cough*Cough* “Stop it, Peter,” The oldest mercenary spoke. Turning to Drac he continued; “I’m Volvo Inkerton, my Ruvskian friend. Now Luvrit, why don’t you tell us the plan. We gotta finish this in a week now, as you’re aware.” The large man, with a large black beard and a balding head, enquired. He was the only person he’d seen amongst the group that was completely equipped; he wore metal cestuses, grieves, a thick gambison, a metal helmet, and carried a black mace currently held in his right hand, conveniently displayed on the table. It was likely that he was the most seasoned warrior amongst their group which was why it was harder to get a read on him.

“Right, since a lot of beasts have been appearing near the outskirts of White Forest, a few villages – well they’re all hamlets but we’re supposed to consider them as villages for political reasons. Anyways, those villages that have already been attacked or are closest to the forest have requested for our help. Since there is no way one village could pay for this I think they’ve pooled all their money made from harvests past and offered it to exterminate the monsters nearest the outskirts of that forest.”

“So what’s the plan?” Brair asked.

“The number of villages isn’t specified, but depending on the money they’re offering there can’t be more than three of them,” he pointed out on the copy of the contract. “If we go today we can reach the first one tonight, and leave for the second tomorrow evening.”

“We can have this done in four days,” Fliss said with a frown.

“Yeah,” Peter smirked. “If we leave today, that is. But I say that we take today for rest and leave it for tomorrow us. I’m not really into the whole ‘risking my life thing’ when I just got back from doing exactly that and not even being paid for it.”

“We don’t refuse a request from our benefactor, Peter,” Volvo responded warningly.

“And I’d rather have it done as quickly as possible, we’ll have time to rest later,” Luvrit said. He leaned towards his counterpart and explained: “Everything’s a risk Peter, but I’m confident we can do this without a day’s rest.”

“So how much’s the payment again?”

“30 silver Andresks and 14 Aans, Peter,” Fliss spoke.

“Argh, why don’t they just say 31 silver Andresks then” Peter wailed “4 extra copper coins isn’t even enough to polish armour and swords.”

“You mean 1 extra coin, right? it’s split amongst us all remember,” Fliss reminded him.

“You better hope we aren’t splitting up the reward,” Peter smirked at the boy as he leaned in. He caressed his face and spoke as if he was speaking to a baby. “ 'Cause then I wouldn't share my blanket with you since we're not supposed to share our resources, is that what you're saying? And if you are then I won’t have to ask the lord fer forgiveness for all the unholy thoughts you’re bringing me...I'll just act on ‘em.”

“Wha-” Fliss practically squeaked in response.

“-Don’t worry about it 'brains', I was just joking,” Peter spoke jovially, leaning back. Suddenly he leaned in again and spoke huskily, “or was I?”

The poor boy was a sputtering mess, fortunately, he was pulled away from the blond by Brair who, try as she might, couldn’t suppress her cheeks from blushing as well.

“What about horses?” Drac asked.

Peter laughed, “No horse is going to be able to carry your weight, so I guess you’ll just have to stay behind. Well, nice meeting ya but...that's fate.”

“No, no.” Luvrit interrupted. They cost a lot so by the time we’re done with the job we’ll only have half the money, and if they die on the way from a loose beast? We’ll end up with triple the price for the trip than if we do this on foot.”

“Alright,” Peter raised his head in defeat.

“Good,” Luvrit said, standing up. “We’re good to go on our side. How about you two?”

After a quick exchange with the redhead, Drac found himself being led down the stairs to the guild lobby. A large group had formed around the receptionist area making it hard to pass down the stairs. The object of this incident, he assumed, was the teenager talking to the receptionist, in the middle of the cut-off circle.

He couldn’t get a good look at her because of the brown hooded cloak she wore, but the person was undoubtedly a girl – if the male mercenary’s gawking looks were anything to go by. As he got closer he could hear the blond receptionist sputter.

“I-I’m s-sorry madam, but I cannot give personal information of one of the registered mercenaries without a letter of approval from the city’s council. Even then I would only be allowed to divulge information about the mercenaries who’re registered in this city.”

*Sigh* “How frustrating.”

In one fluid motion, the girl took off her hood seizing motion of all those present. When he’d recognized her a sense of pride swelled in his chest, knowing that everyone stood transfixed due to her beauty and nothing of lesser value. Not her dark-wood coloured skin, or her long black hair both of which were in stark contrast to their company’s Ansdrovean appearance, instead it was the aura of authority the woman exuded through her mannerisms which held them in place.

With the countenance fit for a duchess, she spoke fluent Ansdrovean.

“How can your organization boast such a great system of communication as advertised in this poster if you can’t find a single person in this small city with as distinctive features as him?”

Drac immediately frowned. The woman he’d envisioned as the perfect nobility was already showing cracks. Noblewomen didn’t snarl, nor did they seek out to so brazenly insult others. They, like most holding their rank, held a countenance which eased their partner off of any illnesses, plagues and hauntings of the world and into a conversation with them where they spoke their insults like borsch, hiding the venom like vegetables in the liquid of conversation.

‘She’s been neglecting’ he thought.

“I shall repeat so you can try again: he is tall, wearing black armour, and carrying two large swords on his back.”

“There are many people like that in this room,” the oldest receptionist said curtly.

“Taller than these people, and his swords are much larger; almost as big as your waist.”

“Excuse my ignorance, my lady,” the senior receptionist responded with a bow of the head. “I understand that finding this person must be very important to you but we cannot disclose this information without breaking guild rules. The consequences will be the removal of all staff in this building; we value our jobs and are bound by rules to not divulge anything personal relating to the staff or mercenaries. You must understand.”

“Indeed, I think I do now. I understand this place to be no better than the cities I’ve searched in Chimera,” she said indignantly.

‘Cities?! How long has she been searching-No, better to just let it run its course-she’ll have to go back in the end.’ Drac said.

Unfortunately, it seemed that fate had other plans because as soon as he’d finished his thought a riot had suddenly erupted. The mercenaries had split themselves into groups of supporters and protesters of the brown woman. Some were offended by the woman, and some were offended by the receptionists for giving them as bad a reputation as 'the Chimeran curr'.

‘As unlikely a noble she is, at least she can control these ignorant people.’

“STOP” the woman shouted. “You people don’t even know me yet you want to put their lives in danger to make me happy? Shame on you. I may not like my situation but at least I don’t resort to violence to achieve it-”

‘Or not.’

“-You bitch!” And that was it.

One mercenary’s poor choice of words and the naiveté of a neglecting noble led to the start of a full-on brawl in the guild. A brawl to which he and his newfound companions had a fifth step seat to, on the stairs. Whatever sense of civility any of mercs on the groundfloor had – vanished. Fists were raised and teeth were broken. Insults about their mothers, sisters, pricks and more were hurled across the lobby as if it was a whole other language. Chairs were being broken, tables were being thrown, and in some cases so were the men. All this occurred and it wasn’t even evening yet.

“She’s dangerous”, the boy-Fliss-spoke up.

“Argh, I can’t decide whether to join the fight and beat up that arrogant bitch or leave get this done faster,” Brair ruffled her hair as she fidgeted on the last step.

“You fight here, you get left behind,” Volvo delivered the ultimatum as he and Luvrit led himself and Fliss out of the building, avoiding the fights the best they could.

“Fine,” Brair yelled from behind him. Drac could hear her stomping feet following them before they were muffled by the noise of the intensifying fighting.

Drac turned around and saw two muscular men, each stuck wrestling the other between Brair and the door. It seemed as she was going to involve herself between them when Fliss shouted: "Zachery, stop!" The taller of the two seemed to stop when a table suddenly flew in from the side and crashed into the two, sending them sprawling over each other on the floor. A few seconds later Peter walked into view. He nodded at Brair and motioned for her to follow as he joined them. Unfortunately, before she could take a step she was shoved aside, replaced by the woman he’d hoped would not recognize him.

“….”

Her eyes lit up as they landed on him and she began to slowly walk towards them. The others were shocked and with the building tension and hostility towards her, he feared he’d have to interrupt. But then, a dishevelled Brair appeared in the doorway, and from her expression, he knew what she had in mind. She wasted no time and lunged forward, only for the cloaked woman to twirl out of the way sending Brair stumbling into Peter.

The dark-tree coloured woman came up close, looked up - her head could only reach up till his chest - and spoke in Ruvskian;

“You didn’t see that inside, did you?”

“…”

“How did I do?”

“…*Sigh* Poorly, you should have stayed home,” he spoke as sternly as he could.

“You shouldn’t have left us alone, whatever it was that was happening we could’ve helped.”

“Should not, dear Natravi, 'Should not'. Why have you neglected your classes?”

“Because, that…lady,” Natravi spoke with a venom which did not match her cold and impassive expression, “neglected us. Soon after you left she did too and came to this country. Vlad is already travelling there to look for her.”

“…” he said sternly. “I would need to speak to him again.”

“The fault lies with her!”

“A woman’s fault lies not with her but her caretaker, her provider. Both of which he is, and both he has neglected.”

“And what of you?” she spoke snidely. “Did you not neglect us, me?”

“I spoke of leaving once you were settled. Back home you were happy, you were safe; I was no longer needed.”

“No uncle,” Natravi grasped his hands, “I still need you for many things yet to come. If it is the matter with the old man that worries you, be free of the burden. They’ve agreed to forgive and forget, you can come back-”

“-My little zaichik,” he stroked a stray hair out of her wide eyes. “You must understand, wherever I go something bad always happens. Last time you almost lost your life in that fire.” Taking a deep breath, he continued, “I fear that the next time I will not be able to save you. Therefore, you must leave me be and go back. Back to your home and your new family.”

“You are my family uncle…and it is not true. You are not the cause of those…misfortunes, they are a part of life like Anna always said so.”

“Natravi-”

“Argggh,” *Cough* *Cough* “help”, Peter interrupted. Turning around Drac noticed Peter clutching his neck as a Fliss punched him furiously in the gut. After the third or so punch he spat out a fly before smashing it with hate between his hands.

“Care ta explain Drac?” Brair glared with her arms crossed.

“…She…is my niece.”

“She’s your niece?” Peter said loudly.

“Uncle you need to come home,” Natravi spoke in Ansdrovean, “The-”

“Drac,” Luvrit stepped forward, “I don’t mean to sound a-apathetic but we’re on precious time. Could you finish whatever you are discussing quickly?”

“…Of course,” he replied. Turning to Natravi he said in Ruvskian, “What will it take to convince you to go home?”

“Let me come with you,” she spoke in fluent Ansdrovean. “If I survive this contract with you, then you are wrong, and you will come home with me.”

“…”

“Drac, this seems like a family affair but if we don’t go now we will have to cross the plains at night when the forest is even more dangerous so just accept it and come on,” Luvrit commanded.

"It is always bad to rush things..." he muttered. "Very well, I accept."

“Alright, now that that’s over we need to move, and quickly because the sun will set fast.”

“C’mon brains, you’re staying beside me, I’ll need your help in a minute or two,” Peter said. Drac didn't miss the smirk that played on his lips as he stole glances at Natravi. Brair noticed it as well.

“Damn it,” she frowned, joining his side furthest from the blond and Natravi. “I should’ve never accepted yer offer ta help.”

“Apologies for my family, I do not control them."