Between a tavern and a butcher shop, the dark, narrow alley gave out a most opposing feeling to the hopes Atreus had harbored when he first entered it.

“Are we sure it’s here?”He inquired, shadowing the steps of his companion, his gaze tracing unconsciously that curvaceous figure cladded in leather armor. Three steps later, he called out to her, thinking perhaps she hadn’t heard him, “Darmia?”

Her gray eyes found him briefly, and fondly, before answering, “So says the note.” She added a shrug then, her shoulders never quite reaching her short, dark-blue hair, despite being three fingers longer on her right side. “Believe me, if the tip hadn’t come from Luna, I wouldn’t have mentioned it.”

Atreus nodded, recalling the trusted handler both had come to know a year ago. On they went through the alleyway, their steps spattering against the wet cobblestone, making Atreus wonder how much of it was piss, or vomit, and how much of it was actually water. By the smell, he surmised, the former greatly exceeded the latter.

And so, away from his disgust, his gaze went back to the swaying hips of Darmia.

Not soon enough, they came by an old wooden door, with a simple iron handle in the middle and framed by the same material. It looked sturdy, and proved to be so by the sound it released when Darmia used the handle to knock. One time, then twice in a row, and finally one time again. Nothing happened for a while, which had her shifting her weight from one foot to the other, not at all comfortable with the idea of having come to such a place for nothing.

A few breaths later, she started for the handle again, only to be surprised by a female voice coming from within, “Come in.”

She pushed the door with a creak, then took in a lungful of air in comfortable relief. “Thank the gods.” She muttered unconsciously, catching the scent from the sticks of incense burning along the walls of the rectangular room.

“One would think seasoned adventurers like yourselves would be more used to such foul smells, given the nature of some quests.” Said the same female voice from before, calling her gaze to a figure half-sitting half-lying on a white couch a few steps in front of her, wearing yellow, thin robes, with a bare leg exposed, touching the floor with the tip of her foot. On her hand, she gently held a long smoking pipe, that despite what Darmia had previously seen, was not curved, but straight and quite delicate and fitting for the elegant woman. The light coming through an orange curtain right behind her only added to her charm, highlighting her dark hair, tied up in a bun with three hairpieces crossing from left to right.

“That doesn’t mean we enjoy them.” Darmia replied, drawing a measuring gaze from her.

Two steps joined them inside, heavier, taken by a tall figure that, as many other times before, had to bend slightly to avoid the top of the door frame, and do so sideways due to his wide shoulders. Atreus looked at Darmia, then at the woman in front, tracing the bare leg, then noting how her robe allowed hints of her figure to be glimpsed as curves and shadows due to the background light. Their eyes met, and the woman gave him a knowing smile.

Soon after, he felt a sharp pain on his right side, which forced him to look at Darmia. “Wha… Why?!” He complained, yet his partner pointedly avoided him, her arms crossed.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” Was her answer.

Atreus wanted to retort, yet bit his tongue. Given past experiences, it was better not to say anything, and he also knew better than to start an argument right in front of their potential client, or so he suspected the woman to be when he settled his gaze on her again.

A couple of chestnut brown eyes focused on him. “Tall and strong frame, short and ashen hair, blue eyes, wears a lion-shaped shoulder-pad on his right, and wields a two-handed greatsword.” She voiced, describing his appearance to the letter. “Atreus of Mycenae, right?”

Lifting an eyebrow, he nodded.

With a turn, the woman set her gaze to his right. “Slender figure, neck-height short and dark blue hair, gray eyes, favors the bow from afar and twin daggers up close.” The woman took a puff from her pipe. “Darmia Nelthisciish?”

Darmia nodded, a bit on her guard. “And you are?”

Bowing her head slightly, she answered. “Yeneda Eilraim, at your service.”

Given her comfortable pose, Atreus had a hard time believing her words, and after exchanging a glance, he realized Darmia was of the same mind. “I thought we were supposed to be at your service.” He added then.

Yeneda nodded. “Fair assumption, albeit erred.” Her lips took another puff from her pipe. “I’m just an intermediary, here to make sure any potential recruits are who they say they are.”

“And how are you going to do that?” Darmia inquired, her guard fully up. She didn’t want to believe it, given that the information came from Luna, their handler, a girl both had come to trust.

But handlers setting up adventurers for an ambush wasn’t something unheard of. The fact that they knew their names and appearance, despite not being that well known through these lands, sent warnings flaring all about her mind.

“I’ve already done it.” Her smile was one full of confidence. “Both of you are at the peak of the Tempered realm, something easily discerned by how well you hide it.”

Atreus sent his seventh sense out then, subtly sniffing the air in search of her scent, trying to evaluate just how strong that woman was… yet the fragrant smell coming from the sticks of incense dulled his fusioned sense.

Almost as if planned.

How much did they know?

His right hand reached for the pommel of his greatsword.

The woman took another puff from her pipe.

His movement froze in its birth. Not out of fear, nor because of some sort of realization. To his dismay, no amount of force seemed enough, his muscles swelling under the exertion of trying to simply grab his sword. Glancing to his side, he saw Darmia in the same state of confusion, unable to move, her hands right over her daggers, one on each side of her hips. Was it a trap? A glyph? A spell? He never saw the woman cast anything, and her nonchalant behavior only added to his worries, seeing as his own seventh sense was unable to get past the curtain behind her.

The place was heavily warded, magically so. And done so subtly and so powerfully they had come in none the wiser. He couldn’t even read the woman’s realm.

“What’s the meaning… of this?” He managed to say.

“Do not be afraid, son of Oenom.” Another voice, male, clearly from behind the curtain, although no shadow could be seen. The mention of his father rattled Atreus even more than his inability to move. “Lady Eilraim, thank you for your assistance, but I believe such a show of force is unnecessary.”

Yeneda Eilraim shook her pipe, and not a breath later the couple of adventurers felt the burden on their bodies disappear… yet before they could finish drawing their blades, she spoke in a stern tone, “There are worse traps than that in this room. Do not tempt me.”

Atreus stared at the woman, then exchanged a glance with Darmia, and after a few breaths, they both relaxed their posture and nodded. They would wait and see.

Sometimes, that’s all one could do…

… until the chance to seize the initiative presented itself.

The curtain was pulled aside then, and in stepped a man wearing a blue shirt, leather pants that were clearly designed for protection, high boots and an easy smile. A short ponytail tied loosely his dark-brown hair, yet what called most his attention were the golden tone of his eyes.

The man gaze went from him, to Darmia, his smile widening slightly at the latter, adding a knowing wink.

Only then Atreus realized she was observing him a bit too attentively.

“Wha… Why?!” She asked, startled, after Atreus pinched her shoulder.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

The man released a chuckle, then looked to his side. “That will be all, Lady Eilraim.”

As her robes gently stroked her figure, the woman stood up, pipe in hand, and after a bow finished with a teasing wink at Atreus, she disappeared behind the magical curtain that let no truth slip through.

“I’d ask you to take a seat, but… “ He motioned to the empty place aside from the one couch he soon sat at. “I hope you are still willing to discuss the reason why you are here.”

“We came for a job, not for an ambush.” Cut in Atreus, while Darmia mirrored his stern expression, staring at the man.

“Hardly an ambush.” He replied after a shrug. “Yet the job is true enough. Have you heard of the goblin colony growing beyond The Trickling Wood?”

That brought a hand to Darmia’s chin, recognizing the name; a forest not far to the East of Bluefalls city. After some consideration, she nodded. “An official quest of extermination arrived at Bluefalls’ guild, if I’m not mistaken. Nothing a couple of freelance adventurers like us could join.”

“Not an official quest.” The man leaned forward, his fingers intertwined. He was young, Darmia understood as she observed his features, probably in his mid-twenties. “Not anymore.”

“Why?” Was the obvious question, and so Atreus willingly bit. Yeneda Eilraim may have left their sight, but he was more than sure she remained close enough in case she were needed. If anything, showing interest should give them enough breathing room in case they suddenly needed to make their escape.

“I bought the quest.”

That revelation forced the couple to exchange a glance. Buying a quest from a guild wasn’t something cheap, even if the quest in this case was just the cleansing of a goblin colony. Goblins were 3rd order monsters that, although could greatly help a certain kind of Tempered Essence realm adventurer improve their refinement level, were also fairly poor yet quite wicked and hard to root them out of a place. They were adept at setting traps within their burrows, yet rarely left anything valuable to compensate for the trouble.

“Why would someone buy a quest like that?” The man voiced then, as if reading their minds. “What do you think?”

Atreus shrugged, not pleased with the mystery. “How should I know?”

The man let out an exaggerated sigh, then cast his amber eyes on Darmia, whose hand had returned to her chin, and seemed deep in thought.

“You either know something about this particular colony of goblins, or know about something else than the goblins.” Darmia lifted her gaze then, a mischievous smile on her features. “Or maybe you are just an idiot.”

The man chuckled, and gave a conceding bow.

Atreus smiled as well, and gave a fond glance to his partner, leaned in, and whispered, “Remind me to spoil you a lot tonight. If we get out of here alive, that is.”

Darmia hit his side, softly, snickered and added, “Buy me a bottle of Whiteleash wine as well.”

“Deal.”

The man waited patiently until he had their attention again, then nodded. “Indeed, If someone were to buy a quest, the reasons you just mentioned would be a few of the possible justifications for doing so.” He smiled, meaningfully, Darmia noted. “As for my reason, I did it only because it’s the right thing to do. Not only for the common people whose villages would be raided if we were to let the goblins proliferate in their tunnels, but also for the freelance adventurers like yourselves who wouldn’t be able to participate in such a quest, just because you chose freedom over belonging to a singular guild.”

Atreus narrowed his eyes. “Grand words for someone whose name we don’t know.” His tone was harsh, and Darmia soon realized why.

Not many knew who was Atreus’ father, much less this far South. Of Mycenae, here, would be interpreted as him being an orphan.

The man nodded again, seemingly noticing something. “One more question first. Say yes, and you’ll know my name; say no, and this conversation has never happened. Will you join my quest?”

Atreus met Darmia’s gray gaze then, set aback by the sudden ultimatum, yet not showing it. Everything about that man seemed suspicious, from the way he contacted them and seemed to know all about them, to his own quests and motives. In moments of uncertainty like these, Darmia’s advice would always prove decisive, and he suspected this time wouldn’t be different.

She nodded, not without adding with a shrug, “what’s life without risks?”

Atreus shook his head, not understanding how he hadn’t seen it coming. One look at the man made him realize he already knew their answer. “We are in.”

The man smiled, there was certainty in that smile, the kind you would only see in someone who stares at a board and watches how a move happens exactly how they expected. But only Darmia saw that, and even then, she didn’t quite care about it.

They became adventurers for a reason.

Later on, back in their room, they laid beside each other as the sweat on their bodies began to cool, their breathing almost back to normal, candid memories still vivid in their minds. Darmia rested her head on his arm, out of habit and out of need, for the bed was not built nor meant for a man of Atreus’ girth.

A smile flourished on her features as past events flashed across her gray eyes, some of them recent, some of them not so much. How many beds had given in under their passion?

Yet the joy didn’t last, and her index finger found a place on his chest, soon tracing a circle on the still moist skin. Such an action was an unconscious one, and she would do so only when something drew her into deep thought, amidst the clarity only brought by moments of carnal satisfaction.

Atreus knew such a gesture, and so he voiced, “What’s wrong?”

Darmia had the impulse of shaking her head, dismissing his worries, yet soon chose otherwise. In this, like in many things since they set out from the distant and cold lands of Yrg, were together. “I was thinking about that man.”

That provoked one of his eyebrows to rise. “Now, or while…?”

She hit his chest, palm open, drawing a wince from him. “I’m serious.”

He chuckled, not without some strain. “What about him?”

“Everything. Nothing.” She shook her head. “I can’t help worrying about that which we don’t know.”

Atreus nodded, then pulled at the string of the conversation, wishing to hear her thoughts, “He did hint at more than what was obvious.”

“He did, and I don’t know why. That look he gave us… ” She shook her head once again. “And not just that. This question keeps nagging at me… ”

Atreus held the hand on his chest. “What?”

Darmia took a deep breath, finding calm in the touch, in his presence.

“What could Eneas of Troy gain from telling us his real name?”