World of Io

25. Lord Acklem

The two assassins returned in silence. Qumo sighed. Clearly this was another step backwards. If they had had ample of time on their hands he would have locked them up in a room, or better yet: a cell, not letting them out until they had resolved their issues. At least it would spare him some headaches. As an afterthought he realized that it might be a bad idea, they could potentially end up killing each other with how hurt they both were at the moment. Hurt that would probably lead to violence considering their occupation. He wished he could make them see what they had in front of them, but he knew it was useless. They clearly weren't ready. After all, they weren't stupid, they were stubborn.

He knew he should have said something but truth be told: he didn't know what to say. The silence followed them out of the forest and into the village which meant that they entered a potentially hostile zone without anything resembling a plan. There seemed to be people everywhere and they far outnumbered the population he would have expected in a village like this. People looked ragged and worn, as if they were living on the street rather than in the comfort of their homes. Recalling the conversation with the bard he realized that the observation most probably was correct. These were refugees. Hopefully that meant that they were too occupied with their own problems to notice three impostors, but it was more likely that they would be on their guard: watching out for anything out of the ordinary.

He tightened his fists around the reins. His second assessment was right. Prying eyes followed them as they rode, but it shouldn't have come as a surprise: their horses were of a good breed, standing much taller than the ponies they passed. 

"We should have left our horses behind." Milo said, obviously seeing the same thing.

"Is that your solution? Getting rid of the horses? I suggest we dress up instead. Posing as mere farmers won't to us any good. We will be less questioned as nobles," Vigilante said, and Qumo couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her indifferent tone. She sounded like the old Vigilante, the one she had been before she had shed the coarsest parts of her thick skin. 

He thought about her suggestion for a while. Posing as nobles wasn't really an option. They didn't know enough of the society to pick a name that would keep them out of trouble. He couldn't agree with her.

"You're not convinced Qumo, then let me demonstrate," she said before he had time to voice his opinion. She halted her horse, then urged it to stomp around, showing its nerve to the staring crowd. Vigilante's expression changed into contempt and superiority in the blink of an eye, and he was taken aback by her skill as an actress.

"What is this? idiots... No welcome? Take me to your sorry excuse for a lord."

Her voice was ice, and her eyes were so menacing that he found himself avoiding them just as the rest of the crowd.

For a while there was silence, complete silence apart from the irritated sounds that slipped from Vigilante's horse. It was as if the horse acted with her, and together they made a very imposing pair. Finally a woman stepped forwards. She placed herself on the ground, on her knees and looked down.

"Please forgive us milady. I will show you to Lord Acklem directly."

She rose and Vigilante waved at her to lead the way, still sneering. Of course the woman had no idea why she needed to excuse the villagers, but that wasn't relevant. The important thing was to appease the woman on the fiery horse.

So much for avoiding attention, Qumo thought. He didn't know what to think, he was afraid that they would get in serious trouble and he wondered if they were ready for it. He turned towards Milo, seeking reassurance or perhaps confirmation. He didn't find it. Instead he saw that the Nyx wore a slightly amused expression, but somehow also sad. He couldn't really read it, but one thing was clear: the Nyx wasn't worried. He guessed he would have to worry alone.