Baleful Wings (Dragon's Dogma Fanfiction)

Chapter 36 : Attunement

Arya walked through the Noble Quarter in search of chamberlain Aldous. The people of the neighborhood treated her significantly different, offering greetings and apologizing whenever they bumped into her. She wore a gold-trimmed navy blue surcoat, and Meloirean black armored gauntlets and leg armor. Throughout the town, she heard speak of an "Arisen" but they also spoke of feats she's never accomplished, like slaying a Cyclops and saving the Encampment, or deciphering ancient stone tablets.
"Hard at work for His Grace?" The Chamberlain's voiced seemed to pop out of nowhere among the murmurs of the people in the noble quarter. Arya slightly jumped, forgetting how terribly short Aldous was. His beady brown eyes and rather large bearded face didn't seem to help the case of the black-robed man.
"Hail, ser Chamberlain. I would like to request permission to hunt the Northern Fang, a bandit group that has recently formed in Gransys," said Arya, politely.
"Firstly, there has been reports of a large beast interrupting trade routes. A team of elites has been warranted to hunt it, so once the beast is quelled we can talk about your campaign," replied Aldous, staring dead into Arya's eyes with his droopy glare. Of course, this was all part of being a noble, but the Hearthstone girl had to use every bit of strength on her body not to cringe at the man's emotionless gaze.
"My thanks," said Arya, turning entirely around before walking away slowly. She had already refreshed her armor and weaponry, and her stocks of curatives were sufficient, so she set out to the East of Gransys, leaving through the gates in the Craftsman's quarters. Truly, she was not a woman that ever needed a break. The team of 'elites' turned out to be a collection of average Gran Soren knights, and most of them didn't even look like they were from Gransys.
"Hail," said Arya, in a happy tone, especially considering that she wasn't the only woman in a large group of warriors for the first time in a long time.
"I'm ser Larkey, the captain of this lot, and you would do well to remember that," said a rather gruff balded soldier, folding his arms and turning toward the bridge to the East.
"Says 'alf a dunce what barely aims 'is piss round the can." A short and doll - faced woman inserted, with a cockney accent that didn't match her delicate features. She looked over to Arya with big blue eyes meeting her glare. "I'm Ser Thorne. I 'ope that fancy blade doesn't lie about your sword arm."
Certainly any sword would appear fancy compared to Thorne's weapon, a dastardly scythe-shaped hatchet of some sort.
"What's a noble doing traveling with the likes of our ilk?" Complained one of the Elites.
"Methinks it may be a commonplace for figures of acclaim to join campaigns," added another.
"Enough blather!" Fussed the self-proclaimed Captain, beginning to walk toward the stone bridge to the north where the others followed suit, seeming mostly confused as to where they were going and why.

Arya felt slightly uneasy being the only person out of uniform, wondering if this troop of Elites would throw her under the ox carriage for being a sellsword. There was Ser Lackey and Thorne, who assigned themselves in front of the other soldiers, and four other Elites that traveled in an awkward pattern, almost like they didn't know each other. Among them was a larger and staturely man that stared back at Arya's observing eye with a murderous silence. "One foot in front of the other," he said, visibly annoyed at how she studied him.
Other than the noticeably skilled soldiers, there were other footsmen among the Elites, proving that the encampment was decently manned on the day of the hydra attack.
She couldn't stand the thought that these men would die in battle and not even mourn each other like the Black Cloaks. Shaking the thought out of her head, Arya turned back to Thorne, whose short-cut red hair made her even cuter instead of man-like, even when she argued and fussed.
"Tis said that horses are nary used here in Gransys," said one of the Elites, wearing a weird wire decoration that formed circles round his eyes, while he scribbled notes onto what looked like a small book. "I figure it to be due to the beasts that frequent the roads, who would only make snacks of them."
Slowing down to walk next to the scholarly soldier, Arya couldn't help but take notice of the technology he wielded. "Excuse me, ser Elite. Whatever is the curious device what adorns your face?"
The man looked over, raising his eyebrows. "They're simply glasses. Are not there glasses here?"
The Hearthstone girl shook her head in response.
"Well, they allow me to see with the same clarity as the rest of you. I am called Innick, by the by."
"I like how you use that word, 'Elite,'" inserted one of the other footsmen, with a relatively native accent unlike the Gaelic ser Innick. "That's just a title they foisted upon us for being present while the Arisen slayed the Hydra."
"Twas clearly the handiwork of ser Mercedes Marten," protested Innick.
"The Arisen cut off its very head!"
"Only because Mercedes tossed an explosive canister into the beast's mouth."
"Quiet, damned louts! Monsters are upon us!" Fussed Thorne, drawing her sinister weapon.

What looked like a flock of women flew through in circles around the collection of soldiers. They had comely faces and large plush breasts that swayed pleasantly as they danced in the air. The upper body alone was enough to distract a normal man's attention from their fowlish wings and talons. Swirling above, the monsters began a soothing and beautiful song. Arya stood ready with her shield raised and her tight cinqueda aimed over it. One soldier fell asleep instantly, gently falling to the dirt, not even having fully drawn his weapon. In the blink of an eye, the fell creatures all locked onto him, and swooped down with an animalistic accuracy. The moment scaled claws latched onto the man's armor, the creature's head was lopped off by Thorne's blade. Larkey's hesitation to kill the sensual monsters was made apparent by his apprehensive strikes, although he did his best not to show it.
"Harpies," said Arya, having only heard stories about the beasts. As arrows pierced the wings of one of the creatures, she took full advantage of its faltering flight and gave it a deathly blow. One by one, the monsters met their ends to the "Elites'" individual prowess. Innick aimed his longbow at a downed harpy, afore being stopped by the man who only just woke up. "Wait! Wait. Are you not also curious as to whether they have human snatches?!" He spoke in a crazed and drunken tone, before Thorne kicked him to the ground and the string of Innick's bow snapped back, joined by the sound of the screeching harpy.

"That's why their sleeping magic worked so well on you, Ser Deen. Your mind is full of lust," said Innick, staring down at the rip on his purple sleeve before tearing the entire thing off and exposing his cut to the open air. This practice was common among the soldiers of this land, so as to avoid having sweaty and dirty cloth against open wounds.
"I'm simply a man," protested Deen, still somewhat disoriented. The taller soldier looked at him with slight disgust. "Twas a bird."
"That's exactly your problem," inserted Thorne. "Notice that Arya, Nathy and I were able to fight un'indered. I can hardly see 'ow you made it this far if you can't fight while staring at a pair of tits."
It was then that Arya realized why these men were not only completely unfamiliar with each other, they were from different lands entirely. She wondered why Mercedes lead a group of foreigners from Hearthstone and not a troop of their finest blades.
"Could it be that you all are.. mercenaries?"
As she spoke, the entire group fell silent, being faced with yet another pack of beasts in the form of growling Direwolves.