Damned if I Do: Chapter 15 (Patreon)

Chapter 15: A New Hope

Calia Menethil decided that she did not much like Arthas’ new friends.

“So this is Stratholm.”

Which was most unfortunate for her.

“Aye, lass.” Muradin nodded. “And if ye look up the quay ye can see our vessel, the Bronze Barge.” He shook his head, running thick fingers through his beard. “Dwarves were nae meant tah sail, if ye ask me. But it gets me where I need tah be.”

Taylor chuckled. “It’s so nostalgic.”

Considering that her dear brother seemed intent on throwing them together at every possible opportunity.

“You are familiar with trade then, Apprentice Taylor?” Calia found herself saying.

She actually liked Muradin, as one of her and Arthas’ closest friends. It left her… vexed when the apprentice effortlessly usurped the conversation. She wanted to speak with Muradin before he left for his voyage.

Calia was also self aware enough to realize that Murradin’s entire party had been staying in Lordaeron City for the past few months, and she’d barely interacted with the dwarf more than was required. It was perhaps the only reason she hadn’t demanded the brunette leave. It would be gauche.

Or rather, it would only make Calia even more detestable in her own eyes.

The apprentice, of course, was completely unaware of Calia’s internal struggles as she nodded. “My father was… the leader of the dock workers in my hometown.” She shrugged, though even Calia could hear a tinge of melancholy in her voice. “When I was younger, I remember heading down to Lordsport with my mother. I’ve always had a soft spot for port cities.”

Calia looked over the port laid out below them. The three of them were mounted on a small hill to the south of the ocean, sun falling bright and cheerily across the shingled roofs of the city. It was a pretty view, but she found herself wrinkling her nose at the smell of raw fish. “It certainly has its…rustic charm.”

“You should move the capital here.” The apprentice threw her head back into the breeze. “Much better than Lordaeron. Doesn’t it get confusing have the same name for the country and the capital?”

“We would never move our seat of power so trivially,” Calia said.

Taylor’s lips curved up into a smile. “I bet I could convince Arthas.”

“Guardsmen.” Calia snapped her fingers. “The entire city must be purged. Quickly, before my thick headed brother gets any ideas.”

The entire group chuckled.

“It is good to see you in such high spirits, your highness,” the guard captain said. Calia sniffed.

It was just the change of locale, was all. Certainly not the company.

“Anyway,” Taylor turned back towards the ocean. “It just brings back memories, even when things got hard back home, dad never stopped fighting for the bay.”

“I see you received a share of your lovely personality from him,” Calia said at length.

The apprentice laughed. “I got my hair from my mother, so I guess you could say I got something important from each of them.”

“How lovely for you.” Calia narrowed her eyes at the implication that the princess hadn’t inherited anything more than her looks. Still, she couldn’t simply order the woman disciplined or even taken from her sight, not that she would abuse her station to dispense any true punishment. “Your looks alone do you credit enough, I’m sure.”

The apprentice blinked at that, turning to look at Calia in askance. The princess merely raised an eyebrow. “Is something the matter?” Truly, it would be most amusing if the other girl missed the implication that only her looks were worth anything, but Calia would be surprised.

The other girl had shown to have a cutting wit, which perhaps was why they still had these little verbal spars, always being sure to keep them benign enough that her Brother wouldn’t take the insults for what they really were.

“Ah, it’s a great thing to see the two of ye getting’ along!” Muradin reached over, clapping Calia’s arm. “Why, Arthas and me were jus’ the same at yer age!”

Taylor and I shared a droll look.

Perhaps it was easier keeping their little spat hidden than Calia made it out to be in the privacy of her own thoughts.

“It’s not too late, you know.”

Calia blinked again at Taylor’s words. Now it was her chance to look at the other woman. Was she attempting to parry Calia’s barb and turn it back on her? If so, it was a poor attempt, and she expected—

“Both of my parents are dead,” Taylor said. Calia’s thought process skidded to a halt. “My mother died when I was still a child, and I threw away the rest of the time I had with my father.” She let out a soft laugh, if it could even be called such. “And now here I am, a world away, knowing that I’d do anything to see either of them one more time.”

Calia said nothing. She could find no words.

“Aye.” Muradin nodded heavily, pulling a flask from his belt and taking a deep swig. “We dwarves be a longer lived folk, but more time doesn’t give ye control of fate.”

He passed the flask to Taylor. The girl looked at it for a moment, before giving that chuffing laugh of hers. She took a swig, before holding her hand out in a peculiar gesture and pouring out a mouthful of the amber liquid onto the flagstones.

“Oi! Watch what yer doing with tha’! That’s good dwarven liquor, it is!”

Taylor laughed again, returning the flask with an apologetic expression. “Sorry, I’ll replace it, I’ll replace it!” Her smile was melancholic, but happier than before. “It’s a tradition back in my realm.”

Magni snorted, “What is? Wasting a good rum?” He asked, but Calia could tell there wasn’t any heat in the words, just the classic dwarven frustration with the other races that ‘didn’t appreciate a good drink’.

“Pouring out a drink for the people who aren’t here.” Taylor rubbed the back of her head. “Sorry, I should have asked first.”

Muradin huffed, tucking the flask back away. But then he reached over and grabbed the woman’s hand with one of his massive mits. “It gets easier, lass. Trust me, it does.”

Taylor’s smile grew a little more genuine. “Thanks, Muradin. I see why you’re Arthas’ friend.”

The dwarf laughed, and like that, all past grievances were forgotten. “What makes ye think he’s the one who chose ta be my friend?”

Taylor laughed as well. “Sorry again, I should have known you were too forceful for even a paladin of the Light to turn you down.”

“And don’t ye forget!” Muradin slapped his belly. “Take care o’ yerself while I’m gone. Anyone who’s a good friend of not only Jaina but the Menethil brats as well is a good soul in my eyes.”

“We’re not friends, Muradin.” Calia sniffed, doing her best to push away the lingering weight of the previous conversation. “Really, we’ve been over this.”

“Indeed.” Taylor nodded along. “We’re much closer than that, aren’t we, Calia?”

“Oh inseparable.” Calia waved a hand. “I can neatly divide my life into two epochs, before and after we met.” With the former being by far more preferable.

Taylor smirked. “Please don’t be jealous, but I have that effect on every life I touch.”

Calia raised an eyebrow. “I weep for their souls.”

“It’s about the only way you can reach them, anymore.” Taylor nodded.

“Oh please.” Calia pushed Taylor’s shoulder as their mounts started back down the hill. She held back a smirk when the woman tilted precariously in her saddle. “You’re as harmless as a fly.”

Something in Taylor’s gaze sharpened. “You’d be surprised what I could do with a fly.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?” Calia asked.

“It would if you knew people from my world.”

“I’m sure they’d be jealous of how close we’ve become.”

Taylor laughed. “They probably would be.” There was an odd hitch in her voice. “What about you, Cali?” Calia twitched at the nickname. “Anyone that’s jealous of me stealing all of your time?”

Calia twisted her head away at that. No, they likely wouldn’t.

Muradin, bless his soul, drew her away from such thoughts before Taylor could notice and dig in the knife. “Aye, aye, the two of ye can get yer fill of jabbering once I’m asail.” He grabbed the reins of Taylor’s horse, not that the other girl was much using them, before spurring his horse into a trot. “But I was promised a drink, and I intend to collect!”

Taylor sputtered, almost falling out of her saddle again as Muradin quickly led them down the hill. The girl simply could not ride. The footmen followed behind them, not that their aid would be needed in Stratholm of all places.

One of the footmen came, offering his hand as Muradin dragged Taylor into the first store. Calia didn’t expect it to be the last.

Stratholm had a thriving liquor import industry, and Muradin was a Bronzebeard.

Calia slipped from the saddle with a demure nod, following the two into the shop with the guard at her side.

The shopkeep, who’d been noticeably excited to have a dwarf in his store, switched his gaze to the clear noble lady who’d just breezed into the store.

“Ah, my lady!” The high elf merchant spread his arms in a wide gesture. His eyes glowed a bright blue with the standard flair of his people, though it was a harsher shade than Prince Kel’Thuzad’s. “Welcome, welcome, how may I aid you this fine day?”

Calia held back the slightest wince. She knew she was not much of a public figure, but for a High Elven merchant to not even recognize her while accompanied by royal guards? It rankled. “Think nothing of it, I am merely accompanying these two.”

“Ah a noble, a mage, and a dwarf, all in the same city and in my shop no less.” The elf sucked in a deep breath, as if sampling the air. “Why, it smells almost like change.”

Calia frowned. “And who might you be, good merchant?”

“Ah, forgive me.” He swept into an extravagant bow, one that left Calia feeling like she was being mocked. “I am Mur’azond, a simple merchant by choice.” He leaned forward, as if imparting a secret. “Though, I admit it is a passing fancy. I’ve tried every profession at least once in my long life.”

Calia nodded, and waved for the man to go back to his wares. As he engaged Muradin on the finer points of spiced wine from Kul Tiras, Taylor ended up drifting over to her.

“He didn’t recognize you?” she asked quietly.

Calia shot her a sharp look, one only hidden from the guards by her hair. “I do not—”

“You should work with Arthas to raise your profile,” Taylor interrupted. “I know it seems like a lot of work, but, well, even for royalty, rep is everything.”

Calia paused. That sounded like actually helpful advice.

Her confusion must have shown on her face, because Taylor gave a soft laugh. “Arthas and I are friends. I think that’s reason enough to give you some free advice.”

Calia raised an eyebrow. “Beyond on our own undying friendship, of course.”

“Of course.” She laughed again.

Calia gave a titter of her own, just to sell the story, of course. “And what do you know about rule and reputation, in any case?”

“I used to run a city.” Taylor shrugged. “The circumstances were a bit unique, but maybe I’ll tell you about it someday.”

“Hmm…” Calia folded her arms. “I shall look forward to it.”

She was not, she found, entirely lying about that.

“Oi, lass, get yer coin purse out.” Muradin tromped over, an amphora of spiced wine tucked under one arm. “Pay the man and let’s be on our way, ya hear?”

Taylor took a look at the fancy jar and winced. “There goes next semester’s tuition.” Still, she dutifully pulled out the coin, counting it out for the merchant. A part of Calia wanted to step in and pay it for her, draw attention to the difference in their statures.

It seemed a bit rude though, to interfere with Muradin’s punishment.

“Ah, and for you, young apprentice.” The merchant bustled back behind the counter, digging around beneath it. “I’ve been looking for someone to pass this off to, and you seem just perfect.”

Taylor blinked, turning back towards the elf. “What do you mean?”

“Hmm, oh nothing, nothing. Here.” He pulled out an ornate stone case from behind the counter, about the length of Calia’s forearm. It was wrapped in an ornate paper seal that wound half a dozen times around it. He held it out, but Taylor didn’t reach to take it. The elven merchant laughed. “It’s nothing bad for you, dear girl. In fact it will be most helpful for your studies.”

“My… studies.” Taylor’s voice was as dry as the desert.

“All good mages need a focus, don’t they?” He smiled, showing teeth that looked a bit pointy for an elf’s. “This one will be uniquely suited for you.”

“And how do you know that?”

He laughed amiably. “That would be telling.” When the three of them glared and the royal guard moved forward, though, he showed no alarm. “Oh, please, please, nothing like that. I am on your side, after all. I swear on my magic that this will only aid you in your journey.”

There was a pulse of power through the air, and suddenly Calia knew what he said to be true.

Muradin sucked in a breath. “That’s powerful magic ye have there.”

The elf only continued to smile, holding out the box.

After a moment more, Taylor took it.

“Excellent.” The merchant, though that was clearly a lie, clapped his hands. “I look forward to hearing about your future exploits, you bring hope to us all.” With that, he turned away.

And then he paused, as if struck by a thought. “And your dwarven friend is wrong; time does give you control of fate.”

Before anyone could respond, he vanished, leaving one last phrase lingering in the air like an echo.

“As long as you have enough of it.”

No one moved for a long minute, but when the floor beneath them didn’t open up and dump them into the Twisting Nether, Calia let out a deep breath that shattered the silence. “Most unsettling.” She turned towards the head guard. “Send someone to fetch the harbor master, if you would. I have the slightest suspicion that no ‘Mur’azond’ has ever opened a store here.”

The man bowed. “At once my lady.”

That just left the empty shop.

Muradin let out a bark of laughter. “Least we got a whole room of liquor for our trouble!”

Taylor turned towards him. “You’re still going to drink it?”

“We’ve been over this, lass!” He held out the spiced wine like a talisman. “Ye don’t waste good drink!”