Wayfinding | Aaravos x Reader |

CHAPTER 32

__________________________
A/N
Trigger Warning: Sexual Harassment
_________________________

CHAPTER 32: PALADIN'S CRYPT

"And then she said 'nie - we only take on regular creatures, not Xadian ones', but then she did that thing with her cheek that Harrow does when he's lying-"

"What thing?"

"The twitching thing. Where his left eye does that little . . . half-wink."

"Really?" Uzner asked, peering out the lavatory and into the chamber where you were brazenly sprawled across the bed. "I never noticed that."

"But you heard me, right? Don't you think there's something fishy going on?"

"Well, of course. Why is Orlion the merchant's paradise, but no one knows it exists? It hasn't even made itself onto the map."

"Indeed! But . . . what do you reckon I do?"

"Research. Talk. Unfortunately - the way that life works is that - you've got to piss off a few people for answers to fall into your lap."

Despite its simplicity, there was truth behind the male's wisdom. Yet, you wondered who you'd have to quarrel with to gain the facts of the case. The trade's leader was reticent. His troop was ruthlessly shallow. And although you were fond of her placid demeanor, the Countess was yet to earn your trust. But, knowing that a start was a start, you rifled through your belongings and tossed on a pair of boots. "Will you be joining me?"

"Until I've reveled in all the Del Barian balms and ointments this place has - don't expect to see me around."

"Oh, you bum." You chuckled. "I'll meet you at supper. But make sure you cover for me if I don't make it in time!"

"Will do!"

With his dismissal, you trotted to the door, crafting something of a plan in your head. You could not recall much from Sal Dorei, but Inyah's oath to protect life and her allegiance to Gliden was embedded in the deepest quarters of your memory. You thought it was nearly impossible for her to yield to Enox's biddings thereafter. So, seeing as you were unwilling to accept the elf's change of moral-course, your primary concern was working out who the traders really were. Fortunately, the longer you mused, you realized the gatekeeper was a fly on the wall for the estate. He would likely possess some answers to your query. Perhaps, he could also explain why the city was so frantic and hateful whenever they saw you. 

Before you could make it past the threshold, however, you collided headlong into the incredibly befuddled trader. Although you could have found your gravity on your own, the male felt obligated to wrap his arm around your waist.

"Easy, girl-" he drawled. Had he just mistaken you for a cow or a mare? Or is that how he usually addresses women? Revolted by his liquor-laced breath, you tried to slip past him and into the corridor. But, after seeing you and the sheerness of your blouse, he bracketed you into the bedchamber. "In a bit of a hurry, are we?"

You grinned with false good cheer, seizing hold of the door to use as a barricade. "My apologies - I, uh - it's a pleasure to see you again so . . . soon."

"Oh, dearest. Again, the pleasure is all mine . . . but, my - your skin," Ruven trailed off, eyes alight. When he reached for your cheek, you ducked beneath his fingers, but he continued airily. "It's as unblemished and as divine as a terrain kissed by fresh snow."

You crinkled your nose in distaste. "Uh, thanks . . . is there anything I could help you with?"

"Ah, indeed-" he belched. Reddening by the second, the man mouthed a soundless 'sorry' before shoving half his torso and a flask of - what you looked like - whiskey through the entrance. "Seeing as we got off on the wrong foot, I thought we could do with a bit of fun before the night's end."