《LEUR: The Unsung Tales》Chapter 9: Leur and the Margrave
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After lunch, Amadeo sets to laying out a silver wire around the room and tying a little bell to one end. "There. At the very least, this will alert us if someone comes around." As the spell completes, a blueish glow outlines Amadeo's form. "Now the question is, what do we do next?"
"There's the matter of payment for the job. Then the matter of figuring out what to do for our little runaway here." Tyrion suggests, sipping his tea and letting out a satisfied burp. "I've had my share of bad days. I'd like to think by the looks in your eyes when she told her story that we all have." Tyrion sits back, kicking his tiny legs up on the table until Hope smacks them off with a jab of her tail.
"No, you've got me there. I have issues of my own to work out, one day when I'm strong enough." Hope eyes the glittering greatsword in the corner of the room.
"Feeling's mutual. I know what it's like to feel... helpless." Amadeo looks out the window. "I need to be able to protect the people closest to me, but that's not something I can do yet."
"So my proposal is this, then. We work together, travel together, and see if we can help each other overcome our personal demons, so to speak. I told you we needed a name...How about Leur?" The halfling stands upright with a grand show of holding his arms out like a ringmaster.
"Leur? What's that?" Anna perks up curiously.
"It's an old Elvish word for 'they' or 'them'. Conveniently enough, it also acts as an acronym that I think describes us perfectly. Amadeo, you have people you need to keep safe, but you're clearly not from here. You can't go back until you're strong enough, which to me says you're in self-imposed exile."
"Hope, you seem like the type who should be capable of great things, but you look at that sword like you're somehow a burden to it. You've got the eyes of someone who finds themselves unworthy."
"Anna ran away from home to explore the world in service to some higher power. That's easy."
"And what about you?" Hope chimes in, arms folded across her chest. "You strike me as someone who doesn't belong here either, like you're just as lost as the rest of us."
The halfling smirks. "You're insightful, I'll give you that. Yes, I suppose I am lost in a way."
"Leur. The lost, the exile, the unworthy, and the runaway. Clever." Amadeo chuckles.
"Why am I at the end?" Anna asks childishly, pouting.
"Because it's the word as a whole that matters. One person can do little alone. But together, we can accomplish quite alot, I think." Tyrion reassures the elf.
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There's a knock at the door, and Hope goes to answer. Standing there is a man bearing the resemblance of a mostly human person, though his tiny tusks and darker skin give away his orcish heritage. He wears fine velvet clothes, the left side of his head shaved clean. "Pardon me, Miss. I am the personal assistant to the Margrave Gillian Vessar. It seems she'd like a word with you and your...compatriots. You are expected downstairs in ten minutes."
Hope stares for a long moment and shakes her head. "I-I'm sorry, what? The Margrave? Downstairs? For us?"
"Correct. Please don't keep her waiting." And with that, the orcish man toddles off back downstairs. From her position, Hope looks out. Barely visible over the balcony is the hulking but neatly dressed form of Margrave Gillian Vessar, mayor and chief guardian of justice in Myethaven.
The devilkin closes the door quickly. "Oh gods, what do we do? Do you think she means to arrest us?"
Amadeo gives her an odd look. "Considering all anyone else probably knows is that some dark elves started a ruckus before they were stopped by four individuals, I doubt it. We're probably just gonna shake hands, maybe get some coin tossed our way as a thank you."
"He's probably right, lass. Just calm down and we'll all go out together." Tyrion stands up, throwing his hood up over his head. "Come along then."
Hope squeals, running to the wash basin and scrubbing her face. "I can't go out like this! I'm still covered in that lady's blood! You don't greet a Margrave covered in someone else's blood!"
Anna and Amadeo gently grab the poor devilkin, pulling her away from the basin. "Come on, you. It's gonna be alright." Anna pats Hope's head as the group walks out into the open space of the inn, heading down the stairs to the main room.
Margrave Gillian Vessar stands from her seat to greet them, holding out her hand to shake. The half-giantess lets her amethyst eyes scan over each of the four, settling a bit long on Anna, who beams proudly as she grips Hope's arm tight to keep her from escaping. After a moment of silence, the Margrave laughs long and loud. "You are not at all what I was expecting. Two dark elves dead, I expected finely honed warriors, not a few righteous upstarts! Ha!"
"Well thank you very much for your kind words. I'll happily be a righteous upstart if it means I get to make such a fine lady as you have a fit of the giggles." Tyrion grins wide, bowing so low his head nearly touches the floor. Amadeo follows suit, and an increasingly nervous Hope is moved like a marionette by Anna to do the same.
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"Please, sit, make yourselves comfortable." The Margrave sits in her seat at the largest table of the inn. The party sits in turn, and she looks over each of them. "You're quite the ragtag band of heroes. When those hoodlums showed up, nobody knew what was going on. People are so afraid of their kind. They expect to be dragged off and sacrificed or butchered in the streets with strange powers. To the average citizen, dark elves are immoral nigh-unkillable monsters, so they run. But you didn't run. You walked right into the fray with all the gusto of brave fools. I'm not sure whether to be impressed or worried."
"Impressed would be much appreciated. Our companion took quite the roughing up for his part." Tyrion slaps Amadeo on the back, who groans at the impact. "Still sore, little man."
"Indeed, so I heard. More importantly, it seems one of you-" The Margrave turns her gaze upon Anna. "-recognized the individuals in question. I'm not going to pretend I know what life it is that led you to our town, but I will say this." Anna's smile fades as she prepares for the tongue lashing that is to come.
"Thank you." She perks up, confused. "I-I'm sorry?" The Margrave waves her off. "You saved two innocent people. That counts for something. One day, that boy will grow up, and he'll remember the day he was snatched from the clutches of death by a dark elf, one of the people he'd been taught all his life to fear. And he may just decide that it's his turn to save someone he was taught is just a monster. And that cycle will likely continue. You did good today, all of you...To that end-"
The Margrave snaps her fingers, a sack of clinking coin settling on the table. "Please accept this as a token of my appreciation. It's not alot, but it should help gear you up a bit better." She stands up, bowing low. "Do come back to our town knowing you're always welcome. Until next time, may you walk ever in her light." Gillian steps away, pushing the inn doors open and stooping to exit.
The party sits quietly in silence. Tyrion eyes the sack of coin, Amadeo looks contemplative, Hope just stares at the spot where the Margrave left, and Anna looks off into space. After a long moment, the scrape of coin on wood brings them back to awareness as they see Tyrion pulling the sack toward them. "Let's see how much we've got, eh?" Opening it up, he looks inside. "...Gods. That's a hundred-twenty sovereigns. Being heroes pays good money!" He starts divvying the coins out.
Amadeo slides his cut into his purse, scratching his chin. "So that just happened. You alright, Hope?" He turns to his companion, who still stares at the door. Waving a hand in front of her unresponsive face, he chuckles and gently pokes her cheek. After a moment, she blinks and shakes her head. "Huh? Wha?"
"Looks like we're not in trouble after all." Tyrion laughs, sliding the rest of the coins over to the girls.
Hope gingerly takes her portion and sighs. "I legitimately didn't know what to expect. I've never had a run in with the law before."
"I have. Just the once though." Tyrion shakes his head.
"So where to next?" Hope takes a breath, clearing her head.
"Well, Mysthaven is a pretty central place, a hub of trade despite being a small town. We could go anywhere from here." Amadeo shrugs. "I'd kind of like to rest here first, then maybe see about going to Kaina. It's only a day's journey to the east."
"Kaina? What's it like there?" Ana asks, eyes positively sparkling with curiosity.
"It's a port city, right on the coast." Tyrion explains. "Part of why Mysthaven is such a hub of trade is that alot of goods enter the kingdom through here from Kaina. But why do you want to go there?" The halfling turns to Amadeo, who scratches the back of his head. "I want to see the ocean. I grew up on a farm further inland. My first stop after leaving home was to come to Mysthaven."
"Me too. I left Loheim after figuring out I could make a life out of this kinda work. Came here two weeks ago." Hope sits back, waving her hand to order drinks.
"That makes three of us. I've been here about a week just trying to have a decent place to sleep and good food to eat. Wonder what strings the Fates are weaving if they ordained that the four of us would meet." Tyrion sits back with a chuckle. "What luck we have after all."
"You think we were destined to meet?" Amadeo raises a skeptical eyebrow. Anna on the other hand, grins widely. "That's so romantic!"
Hope cracks a smile as their drinks are set down. "Well, to us. To Leur, the fated party of romance and do goodery!"
"To making coin and cracking heads!" Tyrion bops his mug against hers.
"To facing our demons together." Amadeo bumps his mug as well.
Anna shoves her mug into the fray with an excited laugh. "To following our own path!"
Here in Mysthaven, in the kingdom of Zorhana, on the 4th of Sundus, in Year 385 of the Fourth Age is where the tale of Leur begins.
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Decompose!
Dear diary. When you read stories about some people missing and returning after years of absence claiming they were living in another world, your first reaction is to scoff and dismiss a story as a tall tale, right? I know I did. All the time. Until it happened to me and I no longer did. That day was today. Some god of thunder smote me. If it were Chris Hemsworth, I wouldn't mind but it was some barbaric Hitite god that abaondned Earth some four millennia ago. Yes, what can I say? I love the seventh art. I have more hours watching movies than any other activity, including sleep. What? Do you think I'm exaggerating? Maybe I am. I'll really miss hollywood the most. And my biggest regret is that I never got to visit the holy city of cinema. I did not come to another world to be a hero even though there was hints that they hoped I'd save it. I did not come with overpowered abilities able to, dunno, leap tall castles in a single bound, faster than a speeding crossbow bolt, be more powerful than a eight-horse carriage, the bounds. No. After the asshole god that murdered me brought me to his world, he gave me some boons from his discount bin and "The Power of my Soul (tm)". Forgive my french, I hope you understand I am rather upset at dying. And he somehow decided that my power is to recycle stuff. How awesome is that? Not much at first, I must admit. At least I got all my camping stuff and equipment with me. There's no lycra in the other world. I'll make it someday, but that day is not today. So here I am. In another world, in the middle of nowhere. I'm no heroine. As the song goes, I'm your basic average girl. And I'm assumed to be here to save the world. But almost everything can stop me, because I'm not named Kim. Wish me luck, diary. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ This novel is going have the following features: slow-paced slice-of-life No GameLit / LitRPG elements. Movie references. Sandra likes the seventh art. Journal / diary style crafting (includes chemistry, engineering and metallurgy) low magic technological advancement (for Sandra, at least. She is not against sharing though) personal relations clash of perception between the modern and ancient customs. bits of tension, fighting, and plot here and there. I won't repeat myself though. Once she crafts a good batch of soap, for example, she'll just note, "I crafted soap again." Once it is estabilished how she obtains compound X, compound X2 that is obtainable from the same process will also just be mentioned. I'll try to be as realistic as I can with the crafting, chemistry, and technology. Cover: Public Domain Image by StockSnap from Pixabay. No attribution required but we do it anyway.
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8 502Meat Suits
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