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mickume

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"Morning." Came a male voice from just up the steps.

As I took a few more steps and reached the porch, he spoke again.

"Here for a job?" asked the plain looking man with plain brown hair and eyes to match. He was dressed in equally unimpressive clothes, but seemed otherwise respectable. He was holding a broom, sweeping the porch.

"Aye." I replied, sizing him up.

"Don’t let them get to you." He said, looking off towards the gate for a moment, before turning his attention back on me. He was staring. But, I was used to that. He continued to sweep the same spot, unmoving.

I cracked a smile and asked, rhetorically, "Me? Don’t worry. Red skin is pretty thick."

There was something about how he kept sweeping the same spot. Or maybe it was his speech, distracted, a little slow. I wondered idly if he was a lackwit.

"The name’s Brathor...Wellborn."

That one spot of the porch was now very clean.

"Ahh. So, you own the Agency?" I asked.

He chuckled. "Yes, but no. Family business. My father runs the company, with my uncle. My cousins "round here, somewhere." He glanced about again. "He works here too. Though, you might wanna steer clear of him."

As Brathor got more talkative, I could see he wasn’t lacking in the head. I think he was just surprised by my presence.

"Did Iriin send word about me? An introduction?" I cursed myself for not getting his family name.

"Not yet, "fraid. But, it is still mighty early, for some folk."

"Good luck in there." Brathor said, as I mustered up my wits and headed towards the office door. He had already turned back to his sweeping, now moving the broom across a new section of porch.

I had barely crossed the threshold when I realized the full weight of Brathor’s warning, and the mystery of the crying blond was solved.

Staring at me, mouths slightly agape in what had to be a mix of shock and disbelief, was a pair of age and weather worn men.

"What in the Nine Hells?" Barked the first man. He was pale, though his skin looked leathery. Most of his face was covered in a short beard, which matched his light brown hair. He was starting to grey, a sign of his age. He was standing beside a large wood desk that was stacked high with rolls of parchment. Unfurled, taking up most of the desk top, was a creased and stained map of the Sword Coast.

Sitting in the corner, in a wooden chair, was a crag faced old man. It was hard to tell if he was older than the bearded man, or had just lived a hard life. Further marring his face was a scar that ran from his forehead to right below his eye, on the right-hand side of his face. It, and the scowl twisting his mouth, made him look mean. Really mean.

"What do you want, girlie?" the bearded man asked gruffly.

"Heard you’re hiring." I replied simply. I wasn’t about to let these two scar me off that easily. Not like they had, to the young lad before me.

"A job? You? You musta got it wrong, girl. We’re hiring caravan escorts. Not the other kind. Though, you got more meat on your bones than the last one. Those boney little arms of yours don’t look like they’d be holding a sword though."

"Enough, Jhonas." The man at the desk said in a firm tone.

I had barely heard him though, as Jhonas’ insinuation got my back up.

"Are you calling me a whore?" I barked.

Jhonas smirked and opened his mouth to respond, but his brother silenced him.

"No one is saying you’re anything, Missy. The names Grondar, and that knucklehead is my brother, Jhonas."

"Oh, and here I thought he was your wife." I quipped dryly.

"You don’t look like you way more than a sack and a half of horse feed. We’re looking for guards, you know. Those that can protect the wagons from bandits and the like."

"Aye, I can do that." I tried not to light up at the prospect. "You get attacked a lot? Bandits, orcs, bugbears? That sort of thing?"

Grondar was nodding, but it was Jhonas who spoke. "How?" he scoffed.

"Magic." I replied, curtly and then muttered a word in the Hell’s speech. The room shook like a procession of hill giants was making its way, outside the office. I held eye contact with Jhonas the entire time.

I couldn’t help but smile when Jhonas did that thing where he evoked the name of a god under his breath.

I must have convinced Grondar, at least. "Okay then. But, this is real work. Can you ride a horse?"

"Yes, of course." I lied, with confidence.

Jhonas piped up.  "We got rules. No drinking. No carousing. Don’t want you doing anything on the side. If you catch my drift."

I glared at him, my gold eyes burning in anger.

"No drinking?" I asked, changing the subject. I could feel the hellfire rising inside me.

Grondar tilted his head. "No, "course not. You have to be able to keep and eye on the wagons, and stay in the saddle. Like I said, real work."

I nodded, "All right then. The pay?"

"Twenty-five gold a trip. Iffin it’s a good season, and permitting you work out alright, you could make two hundred gold. We provide the horse, you get fed and a roof over your head...or tent, depending."

"Impressive." I replied, trying to stay calm. That was a lot of coin, and free food. "Does the caravan get attacked a lot?" I asked, trying not to sound hopeful.

"Nay, but there’s been all this talk of cultists and strange Kobold goings on. And that’s on top of the usual bugbear and orc activity. That’s why we’re hiring extra escorts. "

I nodded. "I’ve dealt with all those before."

Grondar raised a brow. "You’re not going to bring me any trouble, are ya?"

I couldn’t help but laugh. "I’ve got some troubles, but they shouldn’t become your problem."

"Find the Half Elf, Leobreos. He’ll show you the bunk house and introduce you to Seth. He takes care of the Greenies." He paused. "You lot, the new ones." He explained and then waved his hand dismissively.

All I could do was nod again and take my leave. I made sure, on the way out, to give Jhonas my biggest and best smile. I would have to keep that one on his toes.

I hadn’t seen much of Scornubal, since arriving there. No time, no inclination. I had picked out a few other trade companies, in my trek to the Hoof. None seemed anywhere near as large scale as Wellborn’s. It had, by far, the cleanest grounds, largest buildings and best kept livestock. Even the wagons – so many wagons – were in tiptop shape.

The bunkhouse, a large two story building, was cleaner than any inn I had ever stayed at. The bests were actually comfortable too, a big step up from the barely tolerable hay stuffed sacks most inns have. It was fairly quiet during the day, but at night there were all manner of sounds, from snoring too...well...my kind of sounds.  By getting hired on early, I had my pick of bunks and I found a decent one on the second floor, in a corner. The placement of it let me keep my back to the wall, protected, but also gave me a bit more privacy.

Chores were light the first few days. There was no end of things to be done, but as I was part of the extra escorts being hired, there were more people now to be doing them.  I resisted the urge to slack. I wanted to prove I could pull my own weight. If I did that now, I could ease off a little later, I figured.   

The days were filled with caring for the horses, helping Fayelle with meal clean-up and helping Seth prep the riding horses for the other "Greenies’.  He was also patient enough to help me "brush up’ on my riding skills. I’d never excel at mounted combat, but I figured I’d at least be able to stay in the saddle during a gallop and get the job done.    

I suppose Seth could have told the Grondor and Jhonas I lied. That I’d never last all day long in the saddle.  That the last time I had been on a horse it was a knackered old cart pony. But, Seth was a good natured and patient soul.

He was very much the opposite of some of the Wellborns. Not a hateful bone in his body so far from what I could tell. He wasn’t much like Yiralei, either, the only other Wood Elf I had really known. Seth carried himself differently. He had an odd grace to him, even for an Elf.

Leobreos, the half-Elf, however was much like all the other half elves I’ve known, though he tended to lean far more towards the quiet, mysterious type. He was easy on the eyes though, and good for a tumble. At least, for the few nights, before the other Greenies arrived.

Apart from Cookie, Seth and Leobreos, I did my best to avoid the other employees and hired-hands. Most of them were either hateful towards those that were different – namely me – or simply unentertaining. Jhonas, and his son Silas, fell into the first category. A shame, as I found Silas to be very handsome. He was a prime example of that human ruggedness that inspired countless half-human half-breeds.  Silas’s "Little’ friend Anzoun was another I had got the feeling I should be wary of.  He had that sort of face. Cranky. His mouth may have been saying fuck off, but his eyes were saying fuck me.

I hoped the other new recruits were hired soon, and that they were more fun.

The bunkhouse and chow hall had gotten more crowded over the last few days. Crowded to the point that Leobreos turned me down when I finally found him that evening. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. It's not like he ever stayed the full night with me. Wherever he slept, it wasn't in the bunkhouse.

I was only a little disappointed. He had been my sure thing since I had arrived. Not to sound like a snoot, or disparage a partner, but his lovemaking left a little to be desired. Urgent and full of need, which, I could relate to, and even appreciate on some days. But, I would have rather someone who didn't leave after the first act, someone who was willing to even stay till morning.

The great red scaled Dragonborn, Kepesh-something-or-other was the next to be hired. He arrived the day after I did. He seemed perfectly capable in the "defend the wagons’ sense. Which was all the job required. But, he seemed fairly lost when it came to interacting with other folk. Not for lack if trying, mind you. He wasn’t shy, just horribly indelicate. And Tyr's beard, his table manners. I couldn’t be in earshot, let along line of sight, of him in the chow hall.

Amemnon was next, arriving early the following day. Another Tiefling. Another red skinned spell crafting hellspawn. What were the odds? People immediately assumed we were siblings. I rolled with it for simplicity’s sake. Truthfully I had no intentions of getting to close to him. Not with that name. It was just a little too close for my tastes. Asmodeous might fancy we all belong to him now and my lot might have been keen to celebrate his godhood, but there are other Fiends in the Nine Hells to throw in with.

From what I could tell, the sentiment seemed to be quite mutual.

Some might wonder why I didn’t set aside that worry and embrace working with a "brother’. It had been months since I had seen another of my kind. Maybe the other outcast races felt that sort of kinship. Buy not me. Not my kind.

Last to be hired was Angelos. From his garb, weapons and the way he carried himself, I would have put coin on him being a Paladin.

He seemed no less peculiar than the rest of us new folk. Not due to his race, no, he was human, but because he appeared to be blind.

That is to say, he had a scrap of cloth wrapped around his head, over his eyes like a blind man might. Yet, he seemed to have no issue maneuvering the compound like a sighted person. I don’t understand it. Magic? But, he’s Human and male. So he could be missing a limb and be completely inept and he’d rank higher than a pair of Tiefling and a Dragonborn.

What was most vexing to me about him was the fact he had latched onto the Dwarf smith, Banrak, before I had a chance to. The Dwarf had his own wagon, a massive one, and I could be sure that if there was ale to be found anywhere on this journey it’d be in there. I had hoped to cozy up to him before we left. But, appears the blind man beat me too it. Bloody piker.

I hadn’t seen any new faces for over a day, and at breakfast on my seventh day at the compound, Grondar called a meeting in the chow hall, after breakfast.  It promised to be a boring explanation of various bits of trip and travel logistics.

He had, along with Jhonas, and their two sons, taking up a spot at the front of the hall. I was thankful for the distraction that was Silas’ handsome face. He was my favorite eyeful at the Agency.

I supposed I should have been listening to Grondar, not mentally undressing his nephew and picturing various ways to show him just how much more fun I could be than some boring human lass.

"...two days from now..."

Hellfire! What was Grondar saying? What in two days’ time? I tossed Silas his clothes and kicked him out of my mind, doing my best to focus on Grondar instead.

"...so be sure you have everything packed. Check with Seth if you’re missing any gear, and Wendelen or Banrak if you’ve any concerns about the condition of your weapons or armor."

I nudged Kepesh and whispered, "Are we leaving in two days? Is that what he said?" Amemnon, without turning around, replied on the Dragonborn’s behalf, "Yes. Crack of dawn, day after next."

Two more days of preparation. Two more days of freedom. Or, at the very least, ale and a real bed. I downed the last of my drink and stood up, just in time to catch a glare from one of the few other female caravan escorts. I think her name was Villeta. She had pink hair, something you didn’t ever see on a human girl, and a scar above her eye. She had a twin sister, redhead though.

I had no idea what I had done to warrant such a look, so I just shot back with dagger eyes of my own. I didn’t need any trouble from her.

As I filed out, I heard Seth’s soft, accented voice somewhere off to my side. He and Wendelen were discussing finding a horse for Kepesh. Or, I assumed it was for Kepesh, as they were talking about needing a large and sturdy horse for the rider in question.

Seth jokingly suggested an ox, but Wendelen found no humor in the Elf’s words. 

I felt immense pity for the poor animal that would need to bear Kepesh’s weight. Especially with the full armor, weapon and shield I had seen him arrive in.

I waited for Seth by the corral, where on the days previous, he had started my day with riding practice. I hoped, given what I had overheard, that today's lesson might be postponed and I might be able to steal some along time for myself. Perhaps, I could get a chance to talk to the Dwarf before it was too late.

Seth waved me over, and my hopes were immediately dashed by the gesture. He approached, so I went to meet him.

"Tori, since you seem to have a good handle on the basics, I’m not going to bother with you riding today." Seth said.

I nodded, trying not to look too pleased as my hopes were immediately undashed. When he turned his attention back to Kepesh, I started to make myself scarce.

"Big guy. Get over here." He motioned to Kepesh to follow him to where a dozen or so horses were waiting, chewing lazily on a pile of hay. "We need to find just the right animal for you." Seth, leaning up against the gate of the horse pen, looked over all the animals with a keen eye. Satisfied on his choices, he waved the hired hand to bring over two horses, one brown, one white. Seth motioned for him to take the animals over to Kepesh, and for the Dragonborn to decide which he liked.

I was close enough that I could still hear them talking about the horses. The corral area was large, and as I was trying to act nonchalant, I wasn’t moving that quickly as I tried to make my escape.

As they saddled up the white horse, I saw Seth turn and glance back at the corral.

"Tori?" he called out, looking around for me. I froze. "Where did Tori go? Tori...Tori. Hello? Tori."

His gaze found me, half ducked beside a pile of feed bags. Once it was evident he had caught me, I straightened up and started walking back over to him.

"What, you said I was done, you didn’t need me right now?"

"I said I didn’t need you for riding training. There is other work to be done. You can’t just sloff off like that. How about we practice your weapon skills."

I looked at him incredulously. Flexing my twig-like arms, I stumbled for the right words.  

"I don’t think you’re going to make me a good with a sword, Seth. But, if need be, I will find a stick and practice hurting my arm with it."

"Tori, Tori, Tori. I am just having a go at you. I know fighting with sticks is not your strength. Just don’t stray too far. I don’t need you getting lost, or in trouble, right before we leave."

I did my best to feign innocence, but Seth clearly wasn’t having any of it.

Once Kepesh was mounted, and riding the white horse around the edge of the corral, Seth turned his attention to Amemnon. Using the more docile mare in the group, Seth instructed the other Tiefling on the basics of how to get onto the horse, and stay put once there.

It was abysmal. I could barely watch. I felt genuinely embarrassed for my race, for the horse... After barely half an hour, the score was Amemnon zero, the ground, five. As Amemnon climbed back into the saddle for the six time, I jeered at him, trying to egg him on, hoping that wounding his pride, instead of his arse, might foster better results.

I nearly lost it when I heard Seth pass by, guiding the horse around the corral, "Why is your sister so mean to you?" Apparently even he had heard the rumor. I wasn’t sure if he was teasing us, or genuinely thought it to be the case.

As Amemnon fell off his horse for the 6th time, there was a new set of jeering voices. Mocking his misfortune, Silas, Anzoun and Blen were leaned up against the fence. Two of the three being actively malicious about it.

I frowned deeply.

Those bastards were enjoying my "brothers’ misfortune a little too much. Hateful little bastards that they were. Speaking of "little, Anzoun was barely a few fingers called than me. I hadn’t given him much thought, but if I was right, he was likely a prime example of Halfling syndrome.  I watched him, trying to catch his eye, and when I finally did, did my best pantomime I could muster – insinuating that Silas frequently bent him over.