Artemis Unveiled:The Descent

Untitled Part 17: Land of Death

Aria woke up groggily to the sound of footsteps echoing through the building, followed by a startled cry. "Is he alive or dead?"

She had spent the night slumped over the table, sleeping fitfully. As she blinked her eyes open, she witnessed the pale-faced bartender patting Neven's cheek, eliciting a muffled groan from him. With a sigh of relief, the bartender turned to Aria, gesturing towards the swelling on Neven's forehead. "Were you two fighting last night? And he didn't lay a hand on a girl, did he?"

"It wasn't a fight, just a misunderstanding," Aria replied, wincing at the soreness in her back.

Approaching them, she peered down at Neven lying on the floor, still in disbelief that Lucius had tasked her with finding this notorious drunkard. "How did he end up like this? Are you sure he's Neven?"

"I know everyone in town," the bartender affirmed. "He's the one, no doubt. Ever since he arrived in Longhorn, he's been like this all the time."

"You're saying he's not from Longhorn?" Aria grew more perplexed.

"He came to Longhorn three years ago, taken in by the blacksmith," the bartender explained. "He seemed to have been attacked by wild animals in the woods back then, covered in wounds. Everyone thought he wouldn't survive."

"But he did," Aria muttered.

"I've told you everything I know. You need to get him out of here; many patrons don't like seeing him around."

"But he's unconscious."

The bartender grabbed a cup of alcohol and splashed it onto Neven's face. Almost instantly, Neven, who had been unconscious moments ago, sprang up from the ground, wiping the alcohol from his face in anger. Suddenly, with a fierce glare, he grabbed Aria's collar, as if she were a fragile little rabbit. His breath reeked of alcohol, his face flushed with rage.

"Neven, calm down," the bartender intervened. "She settled all your tabs; you should thank the lady."

"You crazy woman..." he muttered, pushing Aria away, wiping his face, and heading out into the freezing cold.

Aria grabbed her cloak and bag, hastily following him. "Wait for me. I'm really sorry about last night. I thought you were..."

"What?" he snapped.

"That's not the point," Aria chuckled nervously. "Someone sent me to Longhorn to find Neven Everhart, which is you..."

He turned around, almost colliding with Aria. "Neven Everhart is dead, and there's no one called Neven anymore," he declared before striding away.

"The bartender said you are," Aria insisted, catching up. "He knows everyone in Longhorn, and he knows you..."

"He lied to you, for money," Neven retorted sarcastically.

Ahead on the path, a group of young men were making a racket, tossing horseshoes into a barrel of water. It looked like they had been at it for a while, with iron horseshoes scattered around. As they passed, one of them deliberately threw a horseshoe at Neven, mocking him. "Neven, are you blind? You're blocking my way."

Neven continued forward, unfazed, as if nothing had happened. Aria hurried through the crowd, followed by even louder jeers from behind.

"Don't you want to say something?" Aria caught up and asked.

He headed for the back door of the blacksmith's shop, ignoring Aria, and pulled open the small door, disappearing inside. Aria hastily squeezed through the door behind him.

It was a tiny warehouse cluttered with odds and ends. Piles of empty bottles filled one corner, while a gray, old blanket lay on the ground, serving as the simplest of beds.