Dying Light

[BlueMars]

The tavern wasn't crowded yet, as it was still early in the day. A small troop of soldiers began invading its interior, however, and the quietness was soon going to be filled with their cheers. Two barmaids, as well as the tavern owner, started hopping from one end of the tavern to the other, taking orders and handing the men and women mugs of ale. Or, whatever it was they ordered, as the tavern was famous for the diversity of drinks it served, both alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks. It aimed to accommodate tastes from all over the country.


The late morning sunlight streamed into the tavern through its high, colorful, stained glass windows. Each window depicted a popular mythical creature--a good one, as opposed to beasts, like a Blue Phoenix. Soon, a mouth-watering aroma of bakery and ham being cooked--a brunch of sorts--began to fill the place, and the tavern began to be filled with life.


Nelrith walked into the cheery place a bit later than the others. It seemed that no matter what he did, he always seemed to stand out from among the rest. He was dressed in the same armor, sure enough, and the same colors, though when not on duty he wore a long, dark blue cloak with a hood that he often covered most of his head with. He was certainly a bit taller than even the largest of the men, and slender. He moved with a strange grace that could only befit Elves and other legendary creatures and peoples, but he looked human enough--or at least, half-human.


He was screaming internally, and his ears and head pleaded for him to retreat to a calmer place. He could never understand humans--he wanted to, sometimes, but it was so difficult that he believed he may never get their ways. He nodded at a few colleagues who recognized him (mostly from the cloak he wore rather than his face). Some of them nicely asked him to join them, others cheered at him and invited him for a drink, to which he politely smiled and shook his head, muttering his thanks. They usually never asked twice, and he was grateful for that.


All he wanted was a nice cup of tea and a quiet place to read his book. But no, the universe deemed it necessary that he'd be sent on this exhausting mission. He prayed that his efforts wouldn't go to waste.


Nelrith let the hood slide off his head as he looked around the place. His face was as unusual as his height and stance were. It was slightly androgynous, with sharp features and piercing pale blue eyes, contrasted by a tanned complexion. His hair was straight with slight waves at its edges, and was a strange, dark shade of maroon. He usually had it in a braid, or some complex ceremonial hairstyle that was often worn in The Elders' presence, though he purposefully let it down to cover his ears. It was half-shaved on one side, but since he had let it grow, it wasn't that obvious.


He saw a man sitting on the tavern's counter, where he was heading, fumbling idly with a game of Crystal Reign. It was a game much similar to chess, though it was played with small crystals, each with a specific symbol indicating its role embedded inside. He headed towards the man, who turned out to be one of his acquaintances. The man offered him a gigantic smile at once, recognizing him.


"Well, well, how is the quiet one doing today?" The man asked, looking down at the shiny crystals.


"I am doing quite well, thank you," Nelrith said as he sat down beside the man, without smiling back at him, "care for a game of Crystal Reign?"


The man raised his eyebrows with interest.


"Oh? You know how to play Crystal Reign, then?" the stranger teased.


"I do, indeed," Nelrith replied patiently.


"Damn, son. I thought they didn't do that where you came from," the man said and chuckled. He was in his late fifties, it seemed, and Nelrith idly wondered why he was still serving in the army at such an age.


"Name's Ziglan, by the way," he said as he set the crystals in order for a new game, giving Nelrith the purple team, and using the golden one for himself, "didn't catch yours, lad."


"Nelrith."


The man nodded as he finished setting the crystals in order and motioned for Nelrith to start.


Nelrith was about to start, but he hesitated as he felt something--shivers made their way down his spine and he scanned the tavern searchingly through narrowed eyes. His target was here, somewhere. He could almost sense the slight tug of power that belonged to her bloodline, almost, but of course he wasn't experienced nor powerful enough for such feats. His hesitation passed quickly, and was unnoticed by the man, and Nelrith confidently made his first move.


A waitress with long, black hair seemingly jumped at them from thin air and asked if they'd like any drinks with a big, cheesy grin.


"Tea" Nelrith merely said.


"Which kind?"


He was a bit surprised. Normally taverns had barely any tea at all.


"Black mint tea, no sugar," he said carefully, wondering if they had it. It's been ages since he drank it, as it wasn't readily available where he lived with The Elders. The barmaid nodded repeatedly and disappeared again.


The same strange sensation that his target was around and close still tugged at the back of his mind. He decided that perhaps today was the day he'd finally make contact with her and please his superiors.

 

[Elaraal]

The sky was still drowning in the soft red light marking the birth of a new day, so it was no wonder that the training grounds were almost empty. Those tasked with patrol had left the camp already while the ones who didn't have to exhibit higher levels of activity generally remained in sleep's sweet embrace, enjoying what could very well be their last moments of peace. And honestly, who could blame them? A soldier had few certainties in their life, one of them being the grim prediction that they probably wouldn't die of old age. Of course they'd jump after every single chance to chill. Catriona, one of the few souls who hadn't succumbed to the vice of laziness, was slowly beginning to question the wisdom of her decision. "Caleb, I thought we've agreed I would merely show you some moves." Caleb frowned in confusion and tentatively waved his sword. "Well, isn't this what we're doing right now?"


"Not exactly, my friend. Your stance is wrong, your footwork non-existent and you hold your sword like a table knife. Show you some moves my ass, you need a complete basic training and we don't have the time for that, at least not right now. It's the same as if you asked me to teach you how to dance while not knowing how to walk. In a real fight, I'd give you maybe three minutes and I'm being generous here."


"Oh come on, it can't possibly be that bad!"


"Want to test my theory out?" Catriona smirked and gripped her own sword tighter, fluently assuming a position better suited for swordplay while not taking her eyes off her opponent. Something in the way she moved resembled a snake, a notion that was only supported by her slim yet lean physique. "Attack me, then, and we'll see how you fare. If you last longer than that, even without beating me, I'll buy you a beer. No, scratch that, I'll buy you a beer every day for the remainder of my life."


The offer seemed to encourage him and within seconds, the two wooden swords clashed with a loud 'thud'. They kept exchanging hits, each of them stronger than the previous one, and Catriona soon found herself pushed to the defensive. A confident grin broke out on Caleb's face as he swang towards her one more time, however that was when she side-stepped and tripped him skillfully, making him greet the ground from up-close. "And-that-is-why-you-mind-your-goddamn-footwork," the girl uttered, accompanying each word with a whack to the head. "Ow, ow, ow!"


"Ow indeed. Now imagine the same scenario, except with steel. Still confident in your skills, Caleb?"


"Oh for god's sake... But I did have you for a second there, didn't I? So it's not as bad as-"


"No, no you didn't," Catriona interrupted him before he could even finish his thought. "The fact I let you do your thing for a while doesn't mean shit, you still weren't able to score a hit against me. Face it, you just suck. If you don't want to expand the number of dead heroes, you'll need to adjust your whole fighting style. I can help you, but these changes don't happen over night. Plus, you'll have to compensate me for my wasted time. I don't run a charity, you know. A girl has to eat, too."


"Alright, alright. How heartless of you, though, I thought we were friends," Caleb took a jab at her supposed stinginess, however it was clear he didn't mean it. The boy rose from the ground, dusted his hopelessly dirty pants off and grabbed his sword again. "So, care to show me how it's done?"

***

​

Two hours later, the two were finally done with their training for today. Catriona had just finished her bath, so she wore a simple tunic and pants instead of an armor, her long blonde hair loose. She would braid it later for practical reasons, but only after it dried completely. Silly greenhorns, the soldier thought with no small dose of contempt. A lot of them joined the army with a vision of glory in their minds, unaware of the sad reality that they would likely end up forgotten in a mass grave. To add insult to the injury, vast majority of these guys lacked the skills necessary, increasing their already sky high chances of getting killed. Sure, Catriona did appreciate the extra income from mentoring these lost cases before they inevitably kicked the bucket, but human stupidity still astounded her. Did they all have a death wish or was she the only one with an ounce of common sense? Apparently it's not so common after all.


Not knowing what to do with the rest of her free time, the girl headed to the local pub automatically. Even the nicest person in the world wouldn't describe the tavern as 'fancy,' yet that didn't matter. It wasn't (too) dirty, the owners didn't mind their patrons getting a bit rowdy from time to time unless it involved property damage and finally, nobody judged you for getting absolutely shitfaced. In other words, the place met all the criteria for being considered to be perfect in her book. When Catriona entered, the inn was already buzzing with activity. Of course it would. Many people were stuck in the same kind of boredom as her and so they also arrived to similar conclusions on how to end it. She scanned the room for acquaintances to potentially drink with, but the only familiar face in her field of vision belonged to Ruadhan. Ruadhan, the latest victim of her newly devised card game scam. The bloke probably didn't suspect anything, but it would be better to lay low for a while just to be on the safe side. People had killed for far less than ten gold pieces.


Looking around herself, Catriona located a table with a free chair. Two guys engaged in a game of Crystal Reign were sitting there already, yet she figured they wouldn't mind her company. And even if they did, the blonde sincerely doubted they'd have the audacity to tell her off. Only a select few could resist her eloquence. "Greetings, gentlemen," she smiled at them in a friendly manner, "may I join you? I know, I know, it's impolite for a stranger to approach a couple of comrades out of blue, so let me fix that. My name is Catriona and my hobbies include buying my friends drinks. What do you say, guys?"

 

[BlueMars]

Nelrith and Ziglan where in the middle of a game in which Nelrith was easily winning without making any visible effort. He seemed so indifferent, too, it was maddening to the human. Nelrith allowed no smug smile to spread to his lips—his face was just blank and perfectly neutral, his eyes fixed on the game, admiring the edges of the crystalline shapes of each piece. The bottoms of them were smoothed out enough for them to sit up tightly without toppling. At some time during the game, the cheery waitress came over with their drinks.


They were near the end of their first game when Nelrith shivered very slightly as his eyes rested on a blonde young woman walking around into the tavern. She looked towards their general direction, briefly. He stiffened and sat up. Ziglan didn’t pay him much mind, and stared intently at the game instead, trying to decipher how Nelrith was winning. He appeared to be hurt by the loss, but Nelrith with his lack of emotional intellect, didn’t care or notice. He simply meant no harm or insult; he just wanted a fun little diversion. Humans, of course, always saw things in a different light.


Ziglan looked up at Nelrith, holding his gaze for a few brief seconds. Nobody seemed to like looking him in the eyes often, something he couldn’t quite explain.


“Well, lad, you’re pretty good aren’t you?” Ziglan said, chuckling.


Nelrith merely blinked at him. Crystal Reign was simply one of the few little diversions he had back when he was under the Elders’ watchful eyes, bound by their steel leash to become who and what he was now. It was only natural for him to be good at it, having played it all those years. He nodded at Ziglan’s compliment.


“Why, thank you. You’re a good player yourself,” he offered the man a compliment in return, sensing his irritability way too late.


The compliment did Ziglan wonders, and he seemed considerably happier all of a sudden.


Then, seemingly out of the blue, the blonde youth took the nearby empty seat. Nelrith shivered again, but not clearly. Apparently, she was the one he was after.


Nelrith tilted his head a little at her as she talked, his eyes fixed on hers. He offered her a kind smile and shook his head. Ziglan chuckled when she talked about it being rude to approach comrades.


“Greetings,” Nelrith said, and before he could continue, Ziglan continued for him.


“Hello there, young lady. It is not impolite at all, in a very crowded place like this one. Besides, firstly, we’re not old friends or anything,” he chuckled again, looking towards Nelrith for a reaction, but received none, “and secondly, I’m losing to this smart little guy, so I may as well excuse myself while I can, before I embarrass myself further. Or tell you what…” he paused staring at his empty cup of ale, “if buying your friends drinks is one of your hobbies, might I call myself a friend?”


Ziglan roared with laughter briefly. Nelrith, frankly, didn’t seem that interested in Ziglan’s joke. He pointed to his cup of cooling tea, indicating he still had something to drink, but he thanked her anyway.


“Of course, you may sit with us,” he answered a bit more politely for Ziglan, “Mr. Ziglan apparently doesn’t mind your presence at all, and of course, neither do I.” His comment about Ziglan was evidently sarcastic, and he offered the blonde another smile. He was pretty sure he heard the Elders whispering her name once before, and scolded himself for so easily forgetting it. They should have given him more information, damn it. What was wrong with them? They made him feel a bit hopeless. He couldn’t understand them, and couldn’t understand humans, either.


But, that was a matter to worry about much, much later.


“Ah, well, look at him making fun of my rusty manners,” Ziglan said, gesturing towards Nelrith wildly. Nelrith, once more, blinked in confusion at the man.


“My name is Ziglan, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he continued, “so many young kids joining the army these days. Oh brother!” Ziglan said and sat back a little.


“I am Nelrith,” Nelrith simply said when Ziglan was done ranting. Perhaps the alcohol had gotten to him, already.


“And I am pleased to make your acquaintance as well.”


Ziglan seemed a little more fidgety, like he was on the verge of excusing himself indeed. It would, in a way, make things just a bit easier for Nelrith in dealing with Catriona and making a proper first impression. Actually, neither things mattered for his work.


Yet, Nelrith had to remind himself of the emotional side that humans had.

***​

The Elders, a group of five elves, sat at their high podiums, which formed a semi-circle. Light streamed in softly from the long windows that stood behind every Elder, throwing part of their faces in shadows.


They all looked much different than Nelrith—they were pale with fair hair, much like how the elven people were pictured to be by humans, it was like Nelrith was a black duckling in comparison. Their hair was pulled in intricate braids, decorated with silver or golden adornments that also touched their foreheads. They looked, for all anyone knew, like a merry group of nobles.


One of them briefly closed his eyes, then a small smirk tugged at his lips. He nodded ever so slowly, letting the miniscule locks of free hair dance about his face like feathers. He opened his eyes carefully and slowly as well, looking towards the others, who were staring at him expectantly.


“Well, gentlemen, I suppose our little agent is rather proficient after all.”


That earned him a few scowls and shakes of the head. One of them even chuckled in scorn.


“Yes, yes,” he comforted them, stepping away from his high seat and throwing his hands in a careless gesture, “he finally made contact with the girl. It will be a long journey from there, I am sure. But, it is a start.”


“Indeed,” one of the elders agreed quietly and sighed.

 

[Elaraal]

"Good, I'm glad I haven't ruined my first impression by committing a grave sin against etiquette," Catriona smiled brightly at the two guys. In reality, she didn't particularly care whether her actions offended them or not, but pretending it concerned her couldn't hurt. Just like food and drinkable water, friendship was a precious commodity in times of war. You never knew who would be in the position to save your back one day, so treating everyone with basic respect could go a long way. What? It may not be entirely honorable, but relying on her skills alone, no matter how formidable, would have been far too arrogant. Not to say that Catriona lacked pride, yet she still valued her life over feelings of superiority. After all, living with your head bowed was preferable to dying for what you believed in. Cemeteries were full of such heroes, forgotten and erased from the pages of history.


"Anyway, it is my pleasure, Ziglan, Nelrith," she continued, nodding at each man respectively when mentioning them. It was a part of her tactic invented specifically to connect new names to faces quickly. People always got irrationally insulted when you confused them for someone else, even if you had only spoken once together and the conversation had been about something as trivial as weather. Catriona found it to be rather narcissistic, but fighting against human nature would have been about as fruitful as trying to carry water in a basket. No, going with the flow spared much of her sanity.


"And nice game you've got going there. I wouldn't give up so fast if I were you, Ziglan, it's not befitting of a warrior. A man of your experience can surely turn this situation around." Now that was a lie. A lie so big it probably had its own gravitational field. Catriona didn't generally enjoy activities which intellectuals (aka 'boring people') considered to be fun. Most of them consisted of sitting at a table, moving as little as physically possible and thinking way too hard about something that didn't even matter. Crystal Reign was no exception to this rule, but since not knowing the rules branded you as a simpleton, the soldier had learned them just like everyone else who didn't feel like living on the edge of the society along with the homeless. One could actually say that Catriona was rather good at it, or would have been had she possessed a shred of patience. The girl understood the game and from what she could see, Ziglan had lost few turns ago already.


Still, tickling his ego a bit couldn't hurt. He may not have been the best Crystal Reign player in the world, but the man was old. Old and in military. This ability to survive for so long despite all the odds made him a valuable ally. Thankfully, he appeared to be intoxicated and swallowed her bait rather quickly. The same couldn't be said about his level-headed companion, though Catriona wouldn't let it spoil her mood. So what if he didn't cooperate as well as Ziglan? Nelrith just looked like one of those quiet types, those reacted to the same stimuli differently. "And that's what I wanted to hear. Hey, waitress!" Catriona snapped her fingers, bringing the woman's attention back to their table. "Bring me red wine. And not some cheap dishwater, do you hear me? I'm celebrating a new friendship here, so I'd appreciate quality. And for these lovely gentlemen, bring another glass of what they've been drinking. Unless you'd like something else," she turned to them with a question written in her eyes.


The waitress marked down their order, nodded and ran off. Apparently she didn't have the time to for pleasantries and Catriona didn't blame her; the pub was getting more and more crowded with each passing moment. Right, I should probably discover where these two stand. "So, have you two heard about the latest juicy rumor?" The woman's lips twitched in a conspiratorial smile. "A little bird told me that our lord Haradath is aiming to form a new elite unit for some special task he has in mind. It's supposed to be brutal, but very well paid. As in, so well paid that it'll make our current rewards seem like peanuts. Honestly, I'm thinking of volunteering, my sword hasn't tasted blood for quite some time now and this, this seems like an interesting opportunity. What do you think, any theories on nature of this little task?" Their reactions would tell her a lot about these two. Were they cowards trembled before any hint of danger, fools without a drop of imagination or possible partners in crime? Catriona looked forward to finding out.

 

[BlueMars]

Catriona had a fine head, Nelrith would give the girl that, and he didn't expect her to not be quick and clever, anyway. Intelligence often ran in the blood, and someone with such a precious bloodline as hers would without a doubt carry the talents of her ancestors. Nelrith gave a small smile as she tried pushing Ziglan further, not that he thought himself invincible or anything, but it was clear that the drink was finally working its magic on the old man. That mildly surprised him. He expected the man to down several more mugs before even starting to feel slightly dizzy. Perhaps, that was a stereotype, and not all men drank the same--whether it was the same stuff, or the same amount. Nelrith had never had alcohol, its scent was enough to make him cringe. He was told that elves weren't particularly all that tolerant to it and he wasn't so eager to find out how being drunk felt like. Maybe, one day, if he somehow made a good group of friends who would be able to carry him back to his bed, he would think about trying it. Something deep inside him told him that wouldn't happen, though, but either way he knew he wouldn't get the chance to try out alcohol anytime soon.


Nelrith chuckled a little--as he thought would be a normal human's reaction--when Catriona said she was celebrating a new friendship.


"All right, I will take the same--black mint tea, please," he said then he looked towards Catriona and offered her another kind smile, hoping it looked genuine enough, "and thank you so much once more, there aren't many around who would do such a good favor."


Ziglan mumbled something indiscernible, but Nelrith guessed it was his thanks. Then, Ziglan began to randomly laugh and giggle at the most trivial of things, then slipped into his own world entirely. Nelrith was not particularly sure how to react, so he chuckled once more and shook his head.


Surprisingly soon, the waitress came back, dodging tables and chairs and putting down a fragrant, streaming cup of tea for Nelrith that almost made him want to be back in his quiet study, a continent away, and a frothing mug of ale for Ziglan, which Nelrith wasn't particularly sure how the man was going to drink, yet he said nothing. He quietly stared down at his tea in a brief awkward silence that followed, trying to focus his thoughts on his next plan. The Elders would have known by now, that much he knew. He would send them a telepathic message as soon as possible, asking them for more information if they had any, or if there was a certain way they wanted him to deal with what was at hand.


Nelrith was an oddball to elves in many ways. While most elves very easily communicated with each other across distances by telepathy, Nelrith struggled a bit. Well, in most cases, a lot. The greater the distance, the more difficult it was for him to listen to others' thoughts and send them. It often took him a lot of mental energy and concentration to send simple messages, and though he had undergone an extensive, painfully long training to better that, it hardly made the work any easier, and Nelrith didn't complain; he endured. It was also one of the many reasons the Elders had had their doubts about him, but in the end, they deemed he was their best bet for the job. In extreme cases when Nelrith could not concentrate enough, or was too mentally or physically worn out to send a telepathic message to the Elders, he only needed to call a specific messenger raven, whom he called Vint. The raven was bred specially for him, and if Nelrith had a best friend, it would probably be Vint.


Then, Catriona asked a rather interesting question. Ziglan was too busy with his ale, but he did glance towards her briefly. Nelrith, on the other hand, sat up like he was about to hear a report from the lord himself.


"Another new rumor?" he asked, his brows edging to form a slight frown, "Why, that sounds interesting...no, I have not heard of that. The last one I heard was of him planning a secret little elite unit for an expedition in the Mountains of Fallen Might. Scientific research, or something like that." Nelrith waved a hand in a careless motion. He frankly did not believe so strongly in scientific research, especially when a man with so much power tries to tamper with powers he could not come to understand. It generally backfired.


Nelrith shuffled in his seat and sat up even more, reaching for his still-warm cup of tea and briefly narrowed his eyes in thought, like he saw some sort of answer in the distance. Ziglan mumbled something in reply as he clumsily sipped at his ale, apparently more interested in drinking than the new juicy rumor.


"Hm," Nelrith hummed in thought, "if that's so, then I suppose that sounds like a good thing to do--volunteering, I mean. Count me in, it's been a while since I used real arrows as well."