Tidal Florette - A Painted Soul I

Favian - 12

Shikuria is far more quaint than most of the civilization either Favian or Sapha have become accustomed to in the mainland. Due to the threat of moonlit wandering the Gravelands, most mortals of Horaizon converge in the capital where the temples and crown offer the strongest protection. The population is dense, practically overwhelming for the resources provided, so stepping off Ren's ship to find a town that's already visible in entirety is startling. Just beyond the limits of the town is a wilderness leading up into the hills that presumably lead to Ukiyo. As the crew settles the ship at harbor, Captain Ren directs Favian to the town's inn for a place to rest and inform them they'll leave for the mainland in a week's time while they load the supply shipment onboard and take time to rest themselves. As Favian and Sapha walk out of earshot, Favian asks, "I had assumed they were delivering rations to the island. What could they be taking back to Horaizon?"

Sapha keeps a dead seriousness to her face, "Exotic pets to be pitted against each other to the death in the temple's basement for the amusement of gamble-thirsty freaks and enough wine to keep the empress uninvolved with their business for a couple more years."

Favian stumbles to a stop for a moment. "You can't be serious?"

Sapha chuckles, "Obviously not, why would I care what they're taking back?"

Favian shakes his head, "No, I get that you're joking about that. I mean you can't be serious about the empress. They wouldn't have sent us here if they didn't care about the realm."

Favian has to hurry to catch up as Sapha doesn't stop to wait for him, "They let us hitch a ride on a boat coming here anyway and we're here to apprehend a mass murderer using cultural customs as an excuse to collect heads. Two people, but let's face it... one mercenary... sent to deal with an extremely dangerous target that I already know I'll probably have to bust my ass to find a clever solution for bringing her in." She sighs with a terrifying amount of exasperation. "Meanwhile, back lounging their luxurious butt on the Dawnthrone sits the empress, blindly letting the priests snatch people out of their homes in the middle of the night never to be heard of again. Not bothering to establish some form of system for accumulating resources in any of the domains so they rely on whatever slop the temples claim Aelionos shit on their expensive "charity" plates. It'd almost be preferable to just go build a house of sticks out in the Gravelands."

Favian is a little speechless, no one dares speak ill of the empress even in the moonlit cities. Not out of fear, just a worldwide admiration for the position and the burdens assumed to come with a fallen kingdom. I can't really argue, if we can't get those two in Ukiyo to come with us peacefully... There is no way that this will be easy... "Do you think you can handle them on your own? If they're as respectable in their traditions as I've heard then they should be fine coming along to speak with the empress or show us proof there's nothing malicious going on with this ritual."

Sapha gives him an incredulous look, "Yes, I'm sure the death artists are going to dance right up to the empress and happily hold out their hands to be shackled."

Favian sighs and nervously tugs on his scarf, loosening it again after tightening it too much. "Do you always use sarcasm to bury your concerns?"

Suddenly she's holding a dagger to his throat as he pulls the scarf down. "Do you always ask stupid questions? I took the job, so I'll get it done, and then I'll go home. Stop wasting my time and start looking for your cute and cuddly solution." She places the knife back in place and keeps walking, none of the townsfolk walking around seemed to even notice the threatening maneuver. She's right, we made a deal and I don't have much time. She can make sure I don't blow my cover. "I'm sorry, I trust you know what you're doing."

Sapha looks away and Favian notices her hand close into a fist. "You're damn right I do."

They reach the inn Ren pointed out to them, inside is a dimly lit bar with a few patrons quietly drinking. A young man with bright eyes and darkly tanned skin notices the two of them and cheerily walks over. He's an inch or so shorter than Sapha, so thin Favian doesn't feel like weakest in the room for once. No, save yourself and run, if she stabs you it's my fault she's moody.