99: Spear's Edge (Patreon)

Realizing that food shopping on an empty stomach was liable to empty his wallet, Vir splurged on a scrumptious meal at the local food carts, tasting kebabs, stir-fries, and delicious local sweets, of which an orange deep fried sugar dish was his favorite. Even Neel had his fill, so when they stopped at the market, it was all business.

Owing to its temperate climate, Zorin’s market was outdoors in an enormous square that had been taken over by a sea of colorful fabric awnings, turning the once-open space into something of a maze of vendors.

Vir tied Bumpy up at a nearby hitching post, leaving Neel to guard the beast. He made a pass of the entire market before committing to buying anything. Many of the vegetables and fruits were foreign to him, such as a big red one with hundreds of tiny, juicy seeds inside it. It was his first time laying eyes on a pomegranate, and after tasting their unbelievably sweet aril seeds, he bought a half dozen.

It was only an hour later, after multiple trips to deposit his load back onto Bumpy, that he finally finished. Zorin’s goods were pricey, but Vir felt good about the two weeks of food his silver had bought him.

Finished with the market, Vir made his way to the eastern edge of town, where he was due to meet the caravan scheduled to depart that afternoon.

It wasn’t difficult to spot; the half dozen wagons were impossible to miss. Unlike Param’s wagons, which boasted the same design and color scheme, these had no consistency whatsoever. Some were open,others closed. Some had two Ash’va pulling them, while others were drawn just by one. Even among the enclosed wagons, their fabrics were all in different states of disrepair, all of differing color.

Their riders continued the theme, with men—all men—wearing clothing from refined to rags, in many styles and colors.

It felt to Vir like a hodgepodge of strangers had gathered together to brave the journey.

Vir rode past a group of three who stood off by themselves, tending to their three Ash’va. It wasn’t just their foreign-design burgundy armor that caught his eye. These days, he scanned everyone nearby out of habit. Not only was it a useful survival skill, but doing so allowed him to grasp the overall power level of those in an area.

Other than the Executor, Vir hadn’t spotted a single noteworthy warrior, let alone a mejai.

So it came as a surprise that two of the group were strong in Earth Affinity prana, but it was the third member of their group—the tall, black-haired mejai clad in form-fitting burgundy gambeson—that caught Vir’s eyes. She boasted not just one, but three affinities.

Vir flared Prana Vision as he rode by. His eyes lingered over her for just a moment too long, and she caught his gaze, forcing him to look away.

Greater Life, Lesser Water, Lesser Lightning.

That was a potent combination. Not only could she heal herself and her friends, she’d have excellent short range combat capabilities with her Lightning magic, and Water was useful both in and out of combat. Vir surmised she was at least a Mejai of Ash.

But it wasn’t just her. The blue-eyed blonde not only possessed some Earth prana, but a bit of Fire as well. She was likely both a Talent wielder and a mejai, though not nearly as strong as the other one. The Fire affinity orbs at her waist corroborated his assessment.

So that’s the group the Executor mentioned. The one I’ll be working with. Wonder what such a strong party’s doing all the way out here, he wondered, approaching the caravan leader.

The man who sat atop the frontmost wagon looked less like a merchant and more a pirate. An old scar ran diagonally from the bridge of his nose across his left eye. Though the man wore no eyepatch, that eye seemed fused shut.

His wild, greasy black hair, sun-wrinkled skin, and gravelly voice only completed the image,

“You the other Brotherhood merc?” the caravan leader barked.

“That’s me,” Vir replied, as Neel eyed the man warily from beside Bumpy. “You are?”

“Aryan. You’re late. We’re just about to set out. We’ve got a long caravan, so I want one of you at the front and another at the rear. Don’t really care who. Discuss that amongst yourselves.”

“Understood,” Vir replied with a nod. The man wasn’t the most polite, but the Brotherhood didn’t pay Vir to anger their clients.

“Expecting any trouble?” he asked.

“Maybe some. Maybe not. Who can say? Mountain passes are dangerous.”

“Out here? I haven’t seen a single prana beast, let alone one with a Balar Rank. What’s your cargo?”

“None of your business, merc.”

“I mean, it’d help if you—”

“None of yer business,” the leader said. “I’m not paying you to ask questions.”

That was true. What they did pay him for was protection, and so he needed to know more about the situation. But it seemed Aryan wasn’t interested in further conversation, so Vir turned Bumpy around and headed to the other mercs.

Wonder why they need this much protection in such a prana-deficient area. It wasn’t just the brotherhood mercs; he’d spotted over a dozen guards, all in mismatched armor. They, too, looked like they had been cobbled together, but their numbers meant that Aryan feared something.

He concluded they were likely transporting high-value cargo. Either that, or they were doing something illegal. Vir sincerely hoped it wasn’t that.

He arrived to find the three in amiable company. The blonde-haired warrior and her armored male companion laughed at some joke, while the black-haired mejai stood flushing with embarrassment.

“Ah! Ho there, counterpart!” the girl with the long blonde hair said, waving Vir over. She wore a type of armor that Vir had never seen before, comprising plate metal pauldrons, a plate chest protector, leather bracers, and fabric in between. It left many gaps—and even bare skin in some places—but Vir supposed it protected her vitals.

On anyone else, it would have come across as a brutish look, but the blue-eyed, freckled blonde somehow made it look elegant.

“Come on, no need to be shy. We don’t bite! Well, some of us don’t, at least,” she said, eyeing her black-haired male friend. The powerfully built man narrowed his eyes and shoved his blonde friend, nearly causing her to trip.

Rather than be offended, she burst out laughing again.

What a merry bunch, Vir thought, dismounting Bumpy.

“You’re Spear’s Edge, I presume?” Vir said, eying an ornate steel spear that was lazily propped against a nearby Ash’va. “The mercenary party of three I’m to work with on this protection detail?”

“That’s us,” the clean shaven man said. “Nice to meet you. I’m Vason. The timid girl behind me’s our mejai, Haymi, and the brute over there’s our esteemed leader.”

“Tia!” the blonde said with a dazzling smile, extending her arm to Vir. “Brute’s pleasure.”

Vir grasped her forearm in greeting. “Param,” he replied. “And, uh, likewise?”

That sent the entire party into another fit of laughter, leaving Vir standing, scratching his head.

“Aww, and is this your cute little friend?” Tia said, stuffing her face into Neel’s fur. Despite the bandy’s aversion to such fondling—Vir and Maiya excepted—he seemed content to let Tia rub his belly, licking her face while she did.

Well, if Neel likes her… she can’t be too bad, can she?

“I see you’ve met Mr. Friendly over there,” Tia said with crossed arms, jabbing her chin over at the caravan leader.

Tia’s words broke Vir out of his reverie. Spear’s Edge seemed genuine, though Vir knew better than most how little external appearances were worth. Would he trust them with his life? No. But he’d happily trust them to guard a caravan led by a grouchy old man.

“Aryan? Yeah, we spoke,” Vir replied. “Sounds like he wants some of us at the front and some at the back.”

“Yep. How about I ride up front with you? Even split that way.”

“Works for me, but don’t you want to stay together as a party?” Vir asked.

“Naw. Vason might look delicate, but he’s studier than an Ash’va. Smells like one too.”

“Hey! Don’t push your insecurities on me!” came the man’s retort.

“And Haymi, well… she could knock us all out even if we ganged up on her.”

Delicate? Vason was built like an Ash’va. Every inch of his body was decked out in Brigandine, and a great tower shield was strapped to his back.

“Maybe remember that next time you tease me,” Haymi said with a huff.

Vir regarded the mejai again and realized she was easily as beautiful as her freckled friend. Slim, tall, and with regal emerald eyes highlighted by her emerald earrings, her wavy black hair fell onto her burgundy robe in a way that just made her look regal. Even without the array of orbs at her waist, Vir might’ve guessed she was a mejai. She just looked the part.

“Looks like they’re pushing off,” Vason said, mounting his Ash’va. “The day’s late, and with a caravan this size, I doubt we’ll ride long.”

“Doubtful we’ll make the Legions by nightfall,” Tia said, stretching her back. “Well, at least our bums won’t be sore tomorrow! See you guys later! Vason, you better cook something nice tonight or I’m gonna be grouchy.”

“Yes, your highness,” the warrior replied, gesturing theatrically.

“Those two. I know they don’t treat me like the leader, but I promise we take our jobs seriously,” she said, turning to Vir. It was as if she’d swapped with someone else. All hint of her prior levity had vanished, replaced by a fierce Talent-wielding warrior woman.

Vir nodded as they rode up to the front of the slow-moving caravan.

“It’s nice, what you have. I had a friend like that, once.”

“Oh? Where is she now?” Tia said, searching his face with her bright, nearly translucent blue eyes.

“How’d you know it was ‘she’?” Vir asked.

“Experience.”

“Somewhere. Somewhere far.” Vir regretted his words the moment he spoke them. His heart throbbed, and he felt an emptiness within him. Tia’s rambunctious group and their easygoing mannerisms only served as a reminder of what Vir had lost.

The blonde-haired warrior drew up next to Bumpy and patted Vir’s shoulder. “You’ll find her again. Promise.”

“Thanks,” Vir said, flustered to be talking about something so personal with someone he’d just met.

“So what’s your story?” he asked, desperate to change the topic. “Guessing you’ve known each other long?”

“Oh yeah. I’ve known Vason and Haymi since we were kids. They’ve been with me ever since,” she said, before lowering her voice. “Through the thick and the thin.”

“I-I see. No wonder you’re such good friends.”

“They’re the best,” Tia said, flashing him a toothy smile. “You may have noticed our burgundy armor.”

“Is that your country’s color?”

Tia nodded. “It is. We all hail from Matali.”

“Oh…”

Maiya had told him about that kingdom. How its lands had been ravaged by the encroaching Ash. Over the centuries, its people slowly trickled out to neighboring kingdoms, and their situation grew worse and worse. From everything he’d heard, Matali was a broken shell of the country it used to be—even worse off than Hiranya.

“My condolences,” Vir replied. Tia must have been another refugee, seeking a life in greener pastures.

“Everyone’s got a sob story or another. Hard to go very many days without being mugged or set upon by some beast. It’s a hard world, but the people in it are tougher. Isn’t that right, Param?”

“What makes you say that? Maybe my life’s been full of prana and roses?”

“Is that so?” Tia said, gazing off into the distance in silent contemplation. “I wonder how many coddled children have killed someone before?”

Artwork for Tia: