An Ocean of Lies (AFOS II)

Chapter 1: Laurentius

It was too late, and Laurentius wasn't properly dressed for that cold— or for anything. He should've turned into a dog, perhaps, something hairier than a bird. But birds were faster, and he needed to get to the docks before the smuggler decided she didn't want to help them anymore. Thick droplets of fog stuck to Laurentius' feathers, making it harder to fly straight. A bat, perhaps. Yes. Colder, definitely uglier, but more practical, no feathers meant no water weight. He focused, he could feel the magic burning in his veins, exploding deliciously in every cell of his body. He let out a tiny squeal.

The Onturian Knights patrolled the streets, their beautiful armors distracted him from his path. They were helping the wounded, killing stray monsters—the ones he had let lose on the city to save their asses. He wondered if Markolf was ok, if he had gotten caught in all the chaos. Ugh. Markolf. He was starting to care for the man, he had warned himself not to. He had been a means to an end, nothing more, no matter how cute his boyish smile was and how nice he looked by his arm, how shiny his Onturian Knight armor was. He forced himself to fly higher, to avoid more interruptions—besides, he didn't want people to see him like that. He knew he looked disgusting, and someone could try to aim a rock at his monstrous little body. Bad all around, from wherever one might look at it.

The docks were faintly illuminated by firedust lamps, the ghostly silhouettes of massive ships gave Laurentius shivers. A Man'o War from the Onturian Crown's armada rested peacefully by the main dock, its canons hidden like cat paws, ready to strike. He wondered where the pirate ship was, how safe was that thing again? Would they be spotted by a frigate, by the Man'o War? Maybe one of the towers from the fort? Would Jo and Alaric be blown to smithereens before even managing to leave Ontur? He didn't save their lives, risking his own, just to see them die in such a mundane manner, so unceremoniously. If they died, it would at minimum have to be memorable. There'd better be fireworks involved, at the very least.

Jo's grandmother told him Roisin would be waiting for him there. Laurentius hadn't seen the woman since the day they got back from the Faradian Forest, but her scarred face haunted his dreams. A whistle came from behind a broken lamppost; he flew around, made sure no city guards or Onturian Knights were on sight and changed back to his original shape, making a show of it: he produced the purple smoke and sparkles just for aesthetical reasons. That, and to spare onlookers from the nightmare it was to see someone's bones and skin contorting and getting back in place. And his nakedness, although that would be a gift to the world, wouldn't it? But most people weren't ready for such perfection. He made sure to conjure his thickest clothes, uncontrollable shivers weren't very graceful.

"Took you long enough," Roisin spat something on the ground. Laurentius twisted his lips as he smoothed his clothes.

"I'm sorry, I was busy playing hide and seek with the Onturian Knights and the city guard. I was having too much fun," Laurentius smirked.

"Do you have the money? Or will you pay with something more interesting?" the smuggler licked her lips, winking at him.

"As tempting as it sounds," Laurentius said, making his voice as sultry as possible, "we have no time. Maybe under other circumstances?" his flirting would get him in trouble someday, he knew it: it almost cost him his life back then with Jo. But he couldn't help it. Roisin had a lovely smile, dimpled—or not? Those hideous scars she had carved all over her, presumably, lovely visage made it hard to know. At any rate, he had to keep it together. A flash of Markolf's face formed in his mind, and that nagging sensation of guilt again.

"Oh, a pity," Roisin pouted. He flashed her a gallant smile.

Laurentius tossed a bag of gold at her, half full. She weighted it, her eyes narrowed. "This isn't all of it, where's the rest?"