Displaced

Chapter 6

Arlette Faredin paced back and forth inside her room. Inches away sat the door to the outside world, but she could not bring herself to open it. On the other side of that door waited the two-headed beast known as Responsibility and Expectations. So many ways to fail. So many ways to let people down. She wasn't ready to face such a monster this early in the morning, but her readiness didn't matter much these days. Each morning the burdens of her position would eventually force her out that door; today would be no different.

As she did every morning, Arlette stopped pacing, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Her right hand moved up towards her throat, her fingers encircling a small stone trinket that hung around her neck. The small carving of a leaf was rather crude and disproportioned, but she didn't care. It was one of the only things from her first father that she had left, and she had vowed long ago to keep it on her at all times to remember him and all he had done for her. Tracing its lines with her thumb helped pacify her fears and she felt her connection with his spirit grow, even half a world away.

Her soul calmer than before, Arlette's morning ritual moved to the next phase. She could do this, she told herself over and over. She'd already done it every day for the last five years, she repeated to herself. She was right, and she knew it. Everything was going to be okay. Her band of mercenaries was growing in number and stature. The men and women under her command respected her and followed her lead. There was talk of another expansion. Things were on the upswing. Her mind no longer a roiling sea of worry, Arlette looked at the door, just several paces away. It beckoned, inviting her to venture out into a world of endless possibilities...

She still couldn't do it. Swiftly marching over to the side table placed by her small, uncomfortable bed, Arlette snatched up a large flask of liquor and poured several gulps down her gullet. Her throat stung as the liquid courage cascaded down her esophagus. A calming warmth perfused her body. Now she was ready. Tucking the flask into her tunic, Arlette Faredin opened the door and entered the hallway outside to face whatever might come that day. Next time she'd make it out without the booze, she told herself, just like she'd told herself every day for the last five years.

"Boss's up!" a voice called as she descended the stairs at the end of the hallway and entered the dining area of The Dancing Jaglioth, the low-cost inn where she and her crew had lodged. Arlette spotted a rough-looking group of about twenty men and women sitting across the chamber. Making her way through the small maze of rough wooden tables and crude benches, Arlette sat down with the group — her group — to a smattering of "Hey, Boss" and "Morning, Boss". The overall ruckus was quieter than normal, and a quick glance around quickly revealed why.

"Where's Jaquet?"

"Left early," replied Lilybeth Ozalan, a large beastwoman and one of her best Feelers. "Said he was going to 'scout the battlefield'."

Arlette tried to hide her annoyance at her second-in-command's actions. By "scout the battlefield", Jaquet meant that he was going spend fifteen minutes checking out the area where the band was scheduled to serve that afternoon, and then follow that up with several hours of gambling away his life savings. She wondered how many times he would suffer the same fate before realizing the folly of his actions.

Jaquet might not have been present, but all other twenty members were there, merrily eating breakfast. With a discerning and critical eye, Arlette inspected her subordinates.

"Telephus, clean up that stain on your coat. You too, Olaf. Lilybeth, your tail's a mess. Make sure you wash it before we head out today. Puck, I told you to fix that strap on your chest piece days ago. If it breaks in battle you'll be a liability to everybody in your squad. Go find a shop if you have to. Our shift isn't until this afternoon so don't tell me you don't have the time."