Instead of Arya, I prefer her mom (Chapter 46) (Patreon)

Cedric stood quietly in his hideout, a pipe dangling between his fingers. Inhaling and exhaling a stream of smoke, his eyes scanned the environment.

It was infuriating, having to leave his experiments behind. Never mind the cadavers and organs, the products of his alchemy were likewise stuck here. Even if he somehow arranged transport, avoiding suspicion would be impractical.

There was also the problem of environment. Most concoctions needed to be kept at specific temperatures and checked regularly, or risk them reacting and into garbage.

He let out a long sigh, absentmindedly rubbing his forehead. Unknowingly, he ended up smearing grime all over his face, residue from his ‘adventure’ in the sewers.

“Fuck, I don’t have a choice, do I?”

He had to accept reality. A month’s painstaking research and experimentation was ruined.

Though, perhaps the situation wasn’t entirely irreparable. The materials would have to be destroyed or risk them falling into his enemies’ hands, but his notes were a different story. After relocating, he would start from scratch, but it would be covering familiar ground.

“Maybe it’s not so bad…”

Resolving himself, Cedric decided to get started. The sooner he was out of here, the better. He didn’t like the feeling of exposure, being in the light while his enemies hid in the dark.

However, as he was about to burn everything to the ground, something caught his eye. It was a green vial, set on a shelf. Strangely, it appeared icy-cold, with crystals forming on the glass.

Of course, Cedric knew what it was. A highly dangerous type of fungus suspended in a liquid, magically engineered by him. It wasn’t created from scratch, but derived from a base type with strange properties.

He eyed it for a moment before whispering a word in the ancient language, watching the ice crystals melt away. The low temperature kept it in hibernation, suppressing its vigorous and voracious nature.

Currently, Cedric found himself in the ‘repository’, where all his biological experiments were kept. This included a collection of human bodies, mostly whole or cut into limbs and organs.

After giving everything a once-over, he seemingly made up his mind, setting the vial on a table before leaving the room.

He still had his notes to collect, along with the money in his vault. He couldn’t take everything with him, but a purse of silver talents would be enough to support his needs.

Closing the door behind him, a white-ish tendril of fungal growth slowly emerged from the bottle-top.

---------------------------------------

In a different part of Teirm, a seedy-looking building stood, sandwiched between other equally-dilapidated ones. Somewhere near the rear, a door opened into a narrow back-alley. It was a strange area, almost like a courtyard, entirely enclosed by walls. That is to say, with dead-ends on both sides.

Mystifyingly, an enormous man appeared there, and it was him entering the building, covered in a dark, tarp-like cloak. Shutting the door with a burly hand, he glanced at the spindly coat-rack nearby, but didn’t dispose of his disguise.

After waiting there for a moment, hurried footsteps were soon heard, heading toward the rear entrance. The madam appeared around a corner, looking frightened and out of breath. Spotting Mr. Scroop, she stopped in her tracks, glancing at the hulking man.

“Where is he?”

Mr. Scroop’s deep voice rumbled, reverberating inside the narrow hallway.

The middle-aged woman startled, her fearful expression turning confused.

“What? Who do you mean-…”

“The prisoner. I told you to keep him alive.”

The madam’s mouth opened and closed. Of all things, it seemed she hadn’t expected this to be Mr. Scroop’s first enquiry.

“I-I tended to him. He’s not in good shape, but he’ll-…”

The giant didn’t let her finish, having noticed the madam’s eyes flitting toward a certain room. With measured steps, he made his way over, the old, shoddy floorboards protesting under his tremendous weight.

Mr. Scroop pulled at the doorknob, and when it didn’t open, being locked, he simply tore it out of the thin door like it was made from paper.

The madam’s eyes widened, but she didn’t dare protest, scuttling fearfully behind as the big man entered, looming over Suffisticuts’ slumbering form.

The pirate was laid on a ‘bed’, really nothing more than a wooden top with a cloth over it. His breathing was weak and shallow, on the verge between life and death. As for his body, well… there was no better way to describe it than a giant, open and weeping sore.

Mr. Scroop eyed him for a moment before leaning over, closing his hand around the kid’s throat. It was like a hydraulic vice, exerting a gradual, unstoppable pressure. Soon, Suffisticuts’ face was turning blue, veins popping between the big man’s ever-constricting fingers.

“Stop…!”

Summoning her courage, the madam raised a hand, laying it on Mr. Scroop’s arm. However, it prompted no reaction from the mercenary.

Biting her lip, she tugged harder.

“He’s one of ours. You can’t-…”

Despite her protests, Mr. Scroop continued choking the life out of Suffisticuts.

Only when his facial color changed from blue to purple, then a strange off-white did the man let go, having accomplished his purpose. Holding two fingers under the young pirate’s nose and finding no breath, he turned, looking at the madam.

Meeting the frightful figure’s eyes, the woman stumbled backwards involuntarily, putting her back against the wall.

“W-why? We could’ve used him! If you were going to kill him, why ask that he be kept alive?!”

Her tone was almost hysterical, eyes flitting toward the now-corpse. Being part of the Red Bones’ operations herself, she knew the importance of information. The dreadful mercenary hadn’t allowed her to sit in on the interrogation, so she, and the organization, knew nothing about what Suffisticuts divulged!

Mr. Scroop’s gaze was gloomy, evidently not pleased about the tone she was taking.

“Where’s the money?”

“…?”

The madam looked at him uncomprehendingly.

“You want your p-pay? You didn’t fulfill the bargain-…!”

“Pay. Me.”

His voice rumbled deeply, threatening despite how indifferent it sounded.

However, the madam shook her head shakily, knowing she couldn’t let things go. It had nothing to do with her own desires. If the higher-ups came knocking, demanding to know the details, she would be in serious trouble.

“We need to know who we’re dealing with. What happened in the tunnels? Where are the rest? What about Garon? Where is he-…?”

Having run out of patience, Mr. Scroop reached out with a big hand, grabbing toward the madam’s neck.

The woman shrieked, ducking under his arm and attempting to escape through the doorway, but she was too slow. Brutish fingers missed her neck only to catch a handful of her hair, yanking her head painfully backward.

She squawked and struggled like a caught chicken, but accomplished little aside from tearing her own hair out.

“Let me go! If you don’t, they’ll never forgive you! You know Garon is my brother, he’ll make you wish you were-…!”

“The mage is dead.”

Mr. Scroop’s words held a terrifying finality, like the closing of a crypt door.

The madam froze, her face turning pale. She looked like she wanted to refute him, to say it wasn’t true, but something in his black eyes told her this wasn’t a joke, nor an attempt at intimidation.

“Y-you killed him! How dare you…!”

After a moment’s silence, she started screaming again, her voice shriller and more unpleasant than before. She seemed on the verge of a mental breakdown, but before the madam could lose her mind entirely, she was lifted off the ground and smashed head-first into a wall.

Dazed and bleeding with a split lip, she wasn’t even given a chance to feel the pain before Mr. Scroop shook her violently, causing her neck to whip back and forth.

“Where’s. My. Money?”

Once the shaking stopped, the madam’s head lolled to the side, her eyes foggy. She seemed incapable of processing what happened, or even to register his question.

Suddenly, she started screaming again, loud enough to pierce eardrums.

“Murderer! TRAITOR! You will REGRET this-…!”

Before things could get noisier and attract unwanted attention, Mr. Scroop adjusted his grip, enclosing her neck in a giant hand. The madam’s screams were abruptly cut off, replaced by a series of desperate, breathless choking noises.

The mercenary grunted, the sound almost thoughtful. His eyes unconsciously travelled down the hallway, glancing in the basement’s direction where Suffisticuts had been tortured within an inch of his life.

Mr. Scroop would collect his gold, one way or another…

---------------------------------

Miles outside Teirm, in a secluded area dense with shoreline brush and long, prickly grasses, Eragon and Saphira sat silently. Not far from her cliffside hideout, they were entirely shielded from view, watching the distant, watery sun journeying across the cloudy skies.

‘So, what are your plans, little one? I am with you always, do not be mistaken, but I would not have you acting rashly, putting yourself in danger.’

Eragon mulled over Saphira’s thoughts, leaning against her with a sigh.

“I’m not sure. I feel a sense of urgency that I can’t describe. The… incident with the elven woman is part of it, but horrifying as it was, things might be getting worse for her soon.”

Saphira waited for him to continue, but she did project some curiosity, wondering how he could be sure.

“It bothers me as much as it does you, but I really can’t explain it. Like the source of the visions themselves, I have no idea where this feeling comes from. The only thing I can say is that I know she’s important…”

Eragon trailed off, his meaning clear. He wasn’t going to let the chips fall as they may, given the elf’s doom seemingly fast approaching.

‘Very well. I’m not entirely satisfied with our ignorance regarding the matter, but I trust you, Eragon. However, intentions alone are worth little. Even if we wish to help the elven woman, are we able? Her location is entirely unknown to us.’

Thinking back to her conversation with Cedric, Saphira sought to keep her own emotions in check. The entire situation caught her flat-footed, and though she was confused and uncertain, the red-hair’s opinion was correct. Now more than ever, reason needed to prevail over feelings.

Eragon looked absentmindedly into the distance, trailing his fingers across Saphira’s smooth scales.

“Not necessarily.”

‘…what do you mean?’

The young rider took a moment to collect his thoughts before answering.

“We may not know where she is, but we can at least figure out where she isn’t. For example, we can say with confidence she isn’t in Teirm. If she was, I’m sure we would’ve noticed a few clues.”

Saphira listened to him talk, her tail tapping impatiently against the ground. Eragon was stating the obvious, but she didn’t snap at him like when conversing with Cedric.

“In my vision, I overheard a few things. When I first saw that evil-looking man with blood-red hair, he gave me a really bad feeling, so I withdrew my mind as fast as I could. However, now that I think about it, he did mention something to the soldier who… who…”

Suddenly flushed with anger, Eragon was unable to complete his sentence, but Saphira knew what he meant. He referred to the same guard, caught while undressing the unconscious elf.

Her mind pressed against his, sending calmness and tranquility toward him. Eragon’s roiling emotions inside were abruptly calmed, like drinking cool water on a hot day.

“…thank you.”

‘I’m always happy to help, little one. Now, tell me what’s on your mind.’

Eragon nodded slowly, collecting himself.

“…the bloody-haired man mentioned something about taking her to Galbatorix, so it’s fair to assume they aren’t in Urubean either. And in another vision, a guard outside the cell-window mentioned something about supplies coming from Dras-Leona…”

As he continued talking, Saphira began to understand her rider’s thinking. Given the elf was kept in what seemed like a sizable, secure prison, and being able to eliminate the most probable locations one by one, the woman’s location might not be so mysterious after all.

‘What did you find, Eragon?’

“…after spending time in Jeod’s study, I feel like I have a good understanding of how Galbatorix’s influence is distributed. Among the mentioned cities, there’s one more that he pays particular attention to.”

He paused for a moment, licking his dry lips.

“The most likely place is Gil’ead. I’m almost certain of it.”

Saphira was silent, feeling somewhat surprised. Eragon’s methodology was simple, but somehow she hadn’t expected him to take such a thoughtful approach.

Her rider seemed to sense some of her feelings, because he turned to look at her, his expression somewhat wronged.

“I’m not stupid you know.”

Saphira held his gaze before laughing inwardly, projecting her amusement toward him.

‘I never said you were, Eragon. Though, I admit I didn’t expect you to have a mind for strategy.’

Her response drew a frown from him, sitting back and crossing his arms.

“Well, that’s what I told you, didn’t I? I needed some time to clear my head and figure things out. It’s why I didn’t contact you immediately, not until I was sure.”

‘Don’t be angry. I didn’t mean you ill.’

“I’m not angry, I just don’t understand why everyone treats me like a kid-…”

‘You are angry.’

“Saphira…!”

The two continued quarreling until the sun was low in the sky. For now, they had a rough idea of how to launch their operation, but who knew what tomorrow held?

------------------------------