Year 1, Month 1, 10th day of the week

Azrael

The young man wove through the crowd, saying his "excuse me"s and giving polite nods. It was saturday, and though he was supposed to be manning a stall in the central marketplace, selling little wooden idols for the vaguely religious, he, instead, was heading to the fountain outside the castle gates. The note passed to him while he was at the stall wasn't something he could ignore. Meet me at the fountain at thirteen chimes. One o'clock. It was half an hour till; he wanted to make sure he could survey the streets around the fountain for a good while before making his appearance to meet whoever had the note passed to him. The chap who passed the note across his stall didn't seem like he was out of place: White coat, buttoned vest, top hat and bearded face. Azrael had to give it to the man; the beard looked real, which meant one of two things: money to pay for use of a disguise kit--highly illegal, by the way--or magic, which also costs money to employ, as a good illusionist will scant spend time or effort for something that he considers to be a parlor trick. Either way, Azrael knew that the man's identity would never be known, as the man walked to the next stall and was lost in the crowd before Azrael could ask about the note that was suddenly on his stall.

The whole thing smelled of Thieves' Guild. Not that the guild had a huge presence in Almaz, but that being the case, it's possible that they were pushing recruitment. It's not like the guild really had anyone to hang over his head in this city: a couple friends, a few drinking buddies, but that was about it. He didn't have any real moral quandaries about pickpocketing baubles off of the annoyingly rich, but getting tied up in an organization like that was too messy for his tastes. The life he had right now sustained him; he purchased wood from the muscle-y lizard two stalls down on Sundays, he spent the remainder of that day and the entirety of the next day carving the idols, making sure to store the best ones for the final day of the week, and on the day after, he would be out at his stall, selling the figurines, rinse and repeat throughout the week, until the 9th day of the week, when he'd take a half-day to relax, and then on saturday, the tenth day of the week, he'd work the stall all day, selling the best figurines to pilgrims that would wander in the gates looking for a religious experience.

And to be fair, this was the city to do that; on every other street, it seemed, there was a temple. Azrael offhandedly wondered what the inside of those temples looked like, as he didn't remember any occasion on which he had reason to step foot in one.

He stepped into the roundabout where the fountain was and moseyed over to the shade of the awning on the far side, next to Samael's Sanctioned Selection, a popular fresh fruit store that chained across multiple cities. Azrael leaned against the wall and scanned the area for anyone potentially doing the same. A parley of elves glided around one way, engaged in avid conversation in their native tongue, seemingly over a book that was held open by the lead elf, while a contention of dwarves shuffled around the other way, jeering at the elves, who, in turn, paid no attention. Four of the city watch clanked by in formation, following the route of the elves, their armor creating a ruckus, despite being half-plate, and their sabers rattling in time. It looked like no battlemage was accompanying them, today, which was a shame, Azrael mused, because any sort of spellcaster that joined the watch was allowed to deviate from the standard uniform. Leaving the temple of Frigga across the street were two humans, immediately turning to walk down the road. A small d'ekapri boy hopped around the fountain, skipping every two stones. A line of Hephaestus nuns brandishing their lit lighters and hammers stepped past the d'ekapri boy, tapping the lighters with their hammers with every step. A small water elemental splashed around in the fountain proper; Azrael knew that the elemental had been removed six times already and it kept coming back, which was somewhat amusing to Azrael. He ran his hand through his short and unruly black hair.

"You do know you're staring at everybody, right?"

Azrael flinched and took a step away from the she-elf that was suddenly staring at him in the face. "Eden, when did you get here?"

"About five minutes ago. You're not subtle. You're not subtle and you're unobservant. You should have gone into Samael's and watched from the store window. Apple?"

Azrael grumpily snatched the apple from Eden. "So you just happened to be in the fruit store while I was standing here?"

"No," Eden shook her head, her long, green hair rustled as if it was full of leaves. Her face had a green blush and her skin had a light-green, glossy, almost chlorophylic sheen to it. Spring, Azrael noted to himself. Eden was in a good mood. One of the things setting Eden apart from her elven kin that had passed the fountain was that her appearance changed with her mood, and her mood could be shown based off of what season her appearance reflected. Most elves Azrael came across looked relatively normal--that is to say, they didn't look like an angry druid had cursed them. Eden had explained that her family is from and still resides in the twilightlands, the land of the fairies, and that elves from that place were different in a number of ways. Spring seemed to mean that she was happy.

"No? That's all you're going to say?" Azrael scoffed.

"Bite me, glow-eyes." Eden stubbornly retorted, "I don't owe you any answers." Gods, what was she doing here? Eden had a knack for showing up whenever he didn't feel like speaking to anyone. Azrael glanced around. No one seemed to be taking notice of their conversation. "You're doing it again, with the eyes, L."

"Don't call me that, and you know I can't help the way my eyes look. Kind of like you with your annoying mood-ring crap you have going on."

Eden's colors started to warm up to red, but quickly shifted back to green. "Well, your eyes don't do that all the time. It's only when you're paying attention to something. When you're lost in your own head, your eyes look normal."

"Then I hope you'll pardon me while I zone out."

"Why are you so grumpy all the time?"

"I'm not. I just don't have patience for you unless there's a beer in my hand. And that only lasts as long as the beer."

"It's me, is it, then?" Eden teased, "You don't have that same 'I'm miserable, leave me alone' attitude with everyone you meet?"

"I'm fine." Azrael rolled his eyes.

"'I'm fine'," she mimicked patronizingly, "says the chronically quiet mope of a man."

"Eden, drop it."

"Admit it: you're miserable. You're miserable, and you have no good reason to be, do you?" They both paused long enough for two halflings to waddle past them and into the fruit store.

"Fine, I hate it here. Happy?"

"Yes, but continue."

"What?"

"Continue that thought, please."

"There's no need to. I don't have any particularly good reason for being unhappy."

"You said 'I hate it here'. It's the city that bugs you. So why not move back to nowheresville or neverheardofitsburg or wherever your parents are?"

Azrael eyed two more d'ekapri walk past with their arrow-point tails twitching behind them. "Because that would be admitting defeat. I came here to this city to get away from the small-town life, the back-breaking farmwork, the subtle bigotry, the nagging of my parents to stop making such a fuss about the way life was there. My dad told me to make the best of life wherever we found ourselves."

"So you told them that a life like that wasn't enough, and then you moved to the city."

"Basically".

Eden thought for a moment and continued, "But now that you're not the center of attention, you feel empty, huh?"

Azrael choked, briefly, on the apple he was eating. "No, that's not it!"

"Sure it is. Those d'ekapri that passed by: people don't give them a second glance, here, and they look like devils. At your hometown, everyone saw your eyes and treated you differently, while here, they don't treat you at all. And it gets under your skin, doesn't it?"

"I don't think so." Azrael sighed, more annoyed than anything, "There's much more to it than that. It's this whole place. Everything here is so white and clean and practically lined with gold. I sell trinkets at the marketplace that wouldn't sell for two brass farthings anywhere else, and yet here I make gold hand over fist." Eden nodded sympathetically and Azrael continued, "There are temples on every street corner, people are so well behaved... It's like this place was made by angels specifically for elavis."

"And you feel like you're the wrong kind of elavis."

"Yeah, essentially." Azrael replied. "I've got about as much angel blood as the d'ekapri have devil blood, but I don't even have any wings to show for it. And every other elavis I come across sees me and knows. And they judge me for it."

"They do not! Stop being dramatic."

"No, I'm serious. Elavis typically have wings that materialize every so often, and also a little voice that speaks to them. A spiritual guide, supposedly. I've never had that. Or wings. Supposedly elavis only get like this when they do something terribly wrong."

Eden scratched her head. "And have you done anything like that?"

"Not that I recall. My parents are like this too. From what I understand, they have always been like that as well."

"And so you can't stand the city because 'wing problems'?" Eden suggested coyly.

Azrael glared at her. "I can't stand it here because everything reminds me of that one aspect of my life that I really don't like to think about."

"Everything, huh? You must really hate it here."

"If I could, I'd destroy the whole city. I'd make everyone start over and see if the city is just as shiny after they build it back."

Eden twirled a strand of her green hair. "Wow. That's a bit over the top, don't you think?"

"Maybe nothing so grandiose, but the more I think about it, the more aggravated I get."

"I can tell."

" You're the one who asked me to talk. Speaking of which, since you're here, compelling my life's story from me, I'll assume that I'm supposed to meet you here?"

She reached into the pocket of her burlap slacks and pulled out a folded note. "You mean you didn't send me this?"

Azrael's eyebrows raised. "Eden, I think we might be in trouble." He held up the note that he had received.

"L, we're nobodies. I can't imagine either of us being the target of someone's cloak-and-dagger operation. Do you owe any money to any loan sharks?"

"Of course not. I make more than enough for myself... Wait a minute! You said 'cloak-and-dagger'?"

"Yeah?"

"Who do we know that could arrange couriers to deliver notes to us and keep the couriers from being followed?" Azrael asked. Eden started to cackle. "Yep. Sael."

"How much time do we have?"

Azrael scoffed. "Do I look like a clock? My guess is ten minutes. Why?"

"What do you say we turn this situation inside-out?"

"I'm game." Eden walked back into the fruit shop and Azrael followed with a bit more pep in his step than he had previously. Inside were an assortment of people; a few elves, some dwarves, a group of humans, and two halflings.

"What do you think, L?"

"The halflings, definitely the halflings."

"Then go ask!"

"Oh, no, they'll respond much better to an elf maiden than to someone that looks relatively human."

"Fine. But only because they're male and there's a bigger chance they'll react well to me."

"Whatever swells your ego." Azrael said as he waved his hand lazily. Eden's color shifted to red very briefly, then back to its usual green.

"Oh, noble small folk!" Eden called across the store, despite the halflings being only one aisle over. Both the halflings turned and gave a curt nod to Eden and one replied in a voice that fit his stature,

"Well, approach, she-elf; we're not makin' the trip over there!" Eden made the five-foot walk to where the halflings were and Azrael followed as if in tow, pretending to be interested in the pomegranates that were on the shelf behind Eden.

"Thank you for inviting me over." Eden purred. Now that Azrael got a good look at the halflings, he noted how hairy they were. The flat bits of their fingers between the knuckles and from the tops of their hands to their shoulders, and presumably up into their sleeveless shirts. One sported a curled moustache, and the other had muttonchops, the hair of both being a bright auburn red. "Would the two of you mind doing me a favor? You'll be compensated for your time!" The halflings looked at each other and the one with the moustache stated very succinctly,

"Ew, no." The other halfling cleared his throat and clarified,

"We beg yer pardon, miss, but we have to say that it just really isn't for us. As flattered as we are at yer proposal, we aren't really that kind of people."

Azrael chuckled audibly, turned around, and said, "Neither is she, good halflings. We just need you to stand outside and hold onto these notes for us." The halflings both looked a bit surprised at Azrael's sudden intrusion, but responded civilly nonetheless.

"How much are ye payin'?"

Eden glanced at Azrael. "Halfsies?"

"Halfsies.", he confirmed. Both Azrael and Eden produced a gold coin.

"Yer not bringin' any trouble down on us are ye?" Eden shook her head in response and replied,

"Not at all. It is a prank, and the person looking for us will be peeved, but no harm or detriment will befall you." Both the halflings looked at each other and frowned. Eden added, "Just one of these pieces will buy your fruit for the day. We're helping your budget. Please?" Both halflings nodded and mumbled something unintelligible and non-committal. "Fantastic!" Eden exclaimed. "Here, take these notes. Feel free to read them, and stand just outside the window there." Both halflings scuttled out the door with the notes and coins.

Azrael grabbed five pomegranates and walked to the counter.

"Three sssilver." the sanpinsani stated, not blinking. The serpent-person had the unnerving stare of a snake, with the same beady eyes, but its mouth was upturned in a surprisingly friendly smile that carefully hid its teeth. It wore a small green pearl hung on a string around its neck and a pin that said "Hello, my name is Ytek". Azrael pulled a gold piece out of his pocket and placed it on the counter.

"Keep the change. Do you have roof access?" Ytek gestured to the back door.

"Ussse the ladder jusst outsside the door. And Blesssingss of your god of choiccce be upon you."

"And yours to you." Azrael and Eden rushed out the back door and found a particularly rickety-looking ladder. Eden went up first and turned around and motioned to Azrael to toss up the pomegranates, which he did in rapid succession and made his way up the ladder.

The roof was fairly nondescript, made out of the same pale stone that most other buildings were made of. There was a chimney to the far left, and an upturned ledge all the way around that would provide partial cover if the pair sprawled on their bellies to watch, which they did. Peering just over the ledge, Azrael squinted, watching the citizens below come and go. He didn't see Sael just yet.

"Eden, do you see her?"

"Nah. Look for something that stands out. My guess is that either she'll be sneaking around and doing a terrible job of it, or she'll be wearing a completely black robe. Or possibly a combination of the two." They strained their eyes for a couple more minutes before they found her, and, sure enough, she was wearing a black robe with the hood pulled down and was attempting to slink as close to the walls of the street as possible. There were two guards accompanying her, both large and brutish (and incredibly bored-looking). They were wearing almost skin-tight muscle-shirts and capri-style pants. Dexian and Frintak, if he remembered their names correctly. Sael was usually accompanied by at least one of them, as per her father's instruction. By their size, Azrael figured they were anakim, but he had never asked them, on the off chance that he might seem rude to two people that could turn him into an Azrael-shaped hole in the floor if they so chose. The both trailed her, giving her a berth of 20 feet, taking small steps, and even stopping at times as the comparatively diminutive figure they were guarding made unnecessary (and unsuccessful) attempts to blend in to the wall beside her. She was, in fact, drawing a lot of attention to herself.

Sael, across the roundabout from Azrael and Eden, pulled something out of her pocket, studied it for a brief moment, and looked towards the fruit shop. Azrael could see golden, glowing eyes peering out from under her hood. He frowned, being reminded that his were a dullish-grey. Maybe silver on a good day. He watched as her demeanor changed. Sael stood straight up, dropped her shoulders, and stomped over to where the halflings were standing.

"Divination magic." Eden whispered. "I knew she would have spelled the notes so she could locate us."

"Good call." Azrael replied. They could hear the conversation happening right below them.

"E--xcu--se me!" they heard Sael say in an obviously irked tone that betrayed a sense of entitlement.

One of the halflings replied, "Oh, afternoon, m'lady! How-"

"Where did you get those notes?" She demanded.

"Oh, so we're supposed to meet you here!" the other halfling exclaimed. It seems they had decided to have some fun with it.

"Seriously, where are they?"

"The notes? Yer looking at them, o' course!"

"No, no!" It sounded like she stamped her foot on the ground. Dexian, the larger of the two guards spotted Azrael and Eden and smiled, amusedly. He strode forward, not quite under the awning. The halflings grew very quiet, all of a sudden.

"Miss Erus, if I may interject...?" Dexian asked in a surprisingly intelligent-sounding voice.

"What is it, Dex? I'm busy." Dexian turned his hand palm up and raised it, gesturing toward the roof, which Sael couldn't see from her position. Azrael leaned over and dropped a pomegranate into Dexian's hand, which the large man caught without looking. Eden stifled a laugh and Azrael could practically hear Sael turn red below him.

Azrael called out, "Hey, Frintak!" The other bodyguard jutted his chin up to indicate he heard. Azrael pitched him a pomegranate, and upon catching it, grinned and gave a thumbs up to Azrael.

There was a fluttering sound and Azrael found himself face to face with Sael, who had unfurled a pair of golden, spectral wings and flown up to the roof. He felt a twinge of annoyance at this. Sael knew he was sensitive about not having wings. She knew. Her flight had pushed the hood back, revealing tan complexion and a mane of dark-brown hair.

"You jerks!" she yelled, shrilly.