They were back. Harold had stopped expecting they would.

He had not thought much of the two the first time they came in here. He had recognized the young man from his few years of ‘service’ as an informant in taverns and the occasional small treasures he sold in adventurer’s and merchant’s guilds.

Diath Woodrow, a street urchin like you see a dime a dozen in Waterdeep, grown up to be a rogue. His smooth complexion, a rare gift in a place commonly ravaged by plagues, used to give him a few ups, and his reputation as a ‘honest’ rogue had attracted a specific public on occasions. It was before he met the girl that was now tagging his shadow. Harold thought this was a girl, anyway, it was a bit hard to see through the crass and the layers of moth-eaten black cloaks she was wearing. Her hood was always up, but Harold had met her eyes long enough to see their inhuman purple-white. Whatever she was, it was not something he was familiar with, and her undeniable stench gave no one around her the will to investigate further.

And at this point, the Woodrow youth did not present himself that much better. He was covered in dirt and blood. His vest was torn and his haggard look was barely masked by a serious expression. He purposely walked to the counter and deposed a neatly carved box under a guild mission’s parchment.

“You can inform the Melshimber about the safe return of their family heirloom,” he spoke with trained professionalism, “the box contains everything but a green emerald… which...” His eyes darted to the left before he continued. “Uh… one of the cultists who stole it used in a dark ritual… but that was stopped too. There is nothing left for them to use against the Melshimber family.”

The black figure behind Woodrow shifted slightly. Harold was unsure if this was with embarrass or pride. The older man looked down at the box with a frown, opening it and examining its content all the while stroking his black beard.

“That emerald was the most important piece in the box, wasn’t it? Sounds ta me like a half-assed job, there.”

Harold perceived the small twitch of the young man’s eye. Before he could react further, however, an exclamation came out of the girl in rags.

“Wh-What? Listen now, cutter!” She raised a black-nailed finger in front of Harold’s face, and the man saw fangs glimmer in her mouth. “We just went through hell and back to get that box! Do you know what being poked at by goblins while barmy wizards shoot magic missiles at you feels like? ‘Cause I do now and it’s no fun!”

“Strix, come on.” The Woodrow kid gently put a hand on his companion’s shoulder. She swapped it away and she turned to him in bewilderment.

“Don’t give me that, Diath! You almost died back there! They would have summon a demon!” She pointed to Harold ferociously. “That’s right! The emerald was magical! And it would have summoned a demon if we hadn’t destroyed it ourselves! We saved you! We saved this stupid family’s butt, so they better be grateful and pay up!”

The only reason Harold did not roll his eyes at her was the hint of fear her presence was inspiring him. He had caught sight of a staff hidden in the girl’s robes, and had no will to tussle up with a magic user if he could avoid it. Still… if this was true… the Melshimber had not informed the guild that one of their stolen items was magical when they submitted to them the missing notice. This knowledge would have increased the difficulty rating of the retrieving mission… alongside its price. Ignoring the two youngsters furiously whispering back and forth, Harold examined the box and piece of parchment. He brought them out of sight with a sigh and turned his attention back to the two.

“A’right. I’ll give you three quarter of the price reward this time, which is more than enough, given the missing emerald.” He handed to Woodrow a small purse of coins. “Only ‘cause I trust that you wouldn’t have stolen it for yourself.”

The girl -Strix- was still fuming under her hood, but said nothing as the young rogue nodded and took the coins.

“Thank you. Uh...” He eyed his companion before looking back to Harold. “One more thing… would you happen to know… an affordable place for the night nearby?”

Harold eyed them both, and a wave of pity washed through him when he took note once more of their disheveled state. He sighed and massaged his brows.

“…‘Reckon the Rusted Pommel Inn’s always got a free bed or two. S’pretty cheap. Y’know where that one is, right?”

Woodrow nodded after a moment of reflection. He thanked Harold again before he and the magic user exited the guild’s hall. Harold watched them depart before returning to his affairs.

~~

“This is stupid,” The tiefling woman growled in frustration under her hood as they both walked the darkening streets of Waterdeep. “He’s stupid too! They all are! What were we supposed to do when that emerald magic activated? I had to fireball that! And I know this was magical! I know magic! It would have killed us all!”

“I know, Strix,” Diath assured calmly as his companion vented. He had complete faith in Strix’s magic knowledge, regardless of the fact that he had no arcane inclination himself. He was disappointed that the emerald could not be retrieved, but he duly admitted to himself that it had been among their most successful outings yet. They even had the opportunity of looting a few trinkets for later uses, currently tucked in Strix’s robes.

The thrill of the adventure meddled with fright had left him now; all that remained was weariness and a hint of worry as to where their future would lead them. Diath had considered himself fairly competent at surviving in this harsh world. Once adult, he had succeeded in quelling most of his money issues and getting by until Strix joined him. It was not that Strix was high maintenance by any means, but for all her numerous qualities, she lacked people’s skills. It meant it was mostly up to him to forge the right connections, find potential safer dungeons to explore, or even the right job for the two of them. His skill-set was enough to sustain one of them. Two was stretching it.

A pang of pain flared in his belly's side and he put a hand on it with a wince. Strix noticed this and looked at the hastily bandaged wound.

“Ooh that one’s bad, isn’t it?” She hunched down, her pet rat poking his muzzle out of her robe. “I’m so sorry I can’t help. All I can do is throw fire at stuffs.”

Diath shook his head. He really disliked it when she took so much on herself.

“Strix, we wouldn’t have lived through this if you couldn’t throw fire. And you stopped an evil ritual. You’ve helped plenty.”

“… Yeah, I guess so… but please be more careful next time when you sneak around. I don’t want you to get spotted like that again.”

“...Yeah.” That was something Diath was still beating himself over. He had grown a bit too cocky over his years of marauding and dungeon crawling. And he had not been used to sneak around magic casters. A single Fairy Fire spell had done the job of blowing his cover once the cultists had a suspicion he was around. Strix had done all she could from that point on to help them escape. Had he done his job right, the emerald would have been recovered as well.

“I don’t wanna go to that guild thing again,” Strix continued, petting her rat and shunning away from passerby crowds. “They’re too mean.”

“Alright,” Diath answered. It had only been their first try at taking a job, and he was not against a change of scenery himself.

“...So, where’s that Inn he was talking about?”

“It’s not too far from here,” he answered, glancing at the sun setting in the distant sea, then at the darkened streets near the dock. “It’s… not located in the most friendly part of town, though… so we should lay low.”

“Oh… okay.”

That was something they both knew how to do. All they craved now was the comfort of a warm bed.

~~

That one’s voice was familiar. Huh.

The bard glanced at where the singing was coming from, and recognized the golden curly locks of hair surrounding a peppy cherubic face. The woman’s pristine white attire and golden armor was shining all the brighter in the middle of the rowdy crowd of the seedy bar... “Out of place”. That was the term.

Paultin took a swing of his drink and blew harder into his bagpipes, drowning the voices around him -and the one inside his head. With enough noises and wine, forgetting was easy. There was no point in thinking of the past, or even the future, when the present was taking all your time. Yeah. Now, that was much better. The laughter, he could concentrate on, and ignore the annoyed shouts and booing. Some people just did not know how to have fun. Who cared for hecklers, anyway?

It was not a tough crowd, though. Some of the wenches around had taken into dancing furiously, enjoying the distraction away from their gutter life. Paultin got it. He laughed, took another shot and went back to playing.

Somewhere around this time was when he noticed the burly innkeeper stomp away from the counter, a crowbar in his hand and with visible fury. The bard was not inebriated enough, apparently, because his gaze followed the man’s path with ease. Thankfully, it was not toward Paultin. Instead, the man went straight to two isolated customers hunched in a corner. One was obviously a dark-haired man in tattered rogue attire, while the other looked like a mopey black mass spread on their table. Paultin’s attention focused on the three of them talking, in spite of himself.

The innkeeper's fist slammed the wooden table with a crack. Paultin stopped playing and everyone’s attention turned to the noise.

“Don’t play that game with me! You think I don’t know your sort?” The innkeeper roared at the rogue. “You thieves are all the same!”

His voice was deafening, but the rogue’s reaction was surprisingly fast. He stood up and faced the bigger man head on.

“I am not a thief!” he proclaimed loudly. “And I told you I didn’t steal your purse! Neither of us did,” he added after a glance at his cloaked companion. “We weren’t even aware you had such a thing, so how could we?”

The innkeeper crossed his arms and snorted.

“Likely story! And coincidentally, it’s gone the night I let you in? You’re gonna have to be more convincing than that!”

Silence had befallen the Inn. Paultin tentatively moved his lips to his bagpipes, wondering how wise it would be for him to start playing again.

A flurry of white and gold cut his thoughts short.

“Um… Excuse me, sir… Ah couldn’t help overhearing your conversation here...”

It was that one, with the golden locks and armor. She was now tapping the man’s shoulder. When the innkeeper turned, he had to crank his head down to meet the petite woman’s smile.

“This doesn’t concern you, wench,” he barked at her, “go back to listening to that ugly music over there.”

Not a fan. Huh. The woman reeled a little before a nervous giggle escaped through her lips.

“Why, Ah… Ah mean, while I do take pleasure in listening to those wonderful songs, our morning lord be praised… Ah feel like I can contribute positively to this discussion here.”

The armored woman walked around the man. The many weapons on her person were making metallic ‘cling’ sounds at her every step. She stood in between the innkeeper and the two wide-eyed accused patrons, then continued.

"You see, Ah did happen to be here when those two came in, and I distinctly remember you still being in the possession of a small belt purse when you left them… and since Ah know that those two did not leave their seats since that time, as I was here to witness it, then they couldn’t have been the thieves you’re looking for, sir.”

From his vantage point, Paultin saw the man’s ears turn bright red. He could only picture his fury. All eyes were on him as his fist clenched on the crowbar and started shaking.

“I. Am. In no mood for this.” He pointed pass the woman at the rogue with his crowbar. “I don’t need no more proof other than I was robbed and this one right here is the only possible culprit, no matter how he did it!”

“Well, now, that’s just unreasonable-”

He cut the woman's words short by directing the metal rod back at her.

“For all I know, he paid you to be his alibi. I don’t see why I should trust some swooning little girl on this matter!”

The golden-locked woman gasped loudly, then put her arms on her hips.

“Why, you… Sir, Ah have a suspicion that there is nothing wrong with this fine couple here. Instead… it seems like you may have some anger management issues.”

“What? Now listen-”

“Ye, I reckon he always has trouble holdin’ back, that one!” a drunk at the bar agreed with a laugh, raising his glass high, his smile uncovering numerous missing teeth. “Hey, rem’ber the time he beat up Larsy to a pulp ‘cause he thought he looked at him funny? Boy, was that brutal.”

The innkeeper's attention turned to the drunk. Paultin caught sight of his bloodshot eyes.

“Keep talking and I’ll throw you out in the cold, old man!”

“Yeah, yeah.” The drunk laughed again and raised his palm up. “I’ll be gone once you give me back what you owe me from last time, don’t think I forgot!”

Another patron stood up at these words, an elven woman with a large scar on her cheek. She pointed a finger at the innkeeper.

“Hey, speaking of money, you’re owing me a gold purse as well! It’s been almost a week now, when are you gonna pay up?”

“Oh, get out of here, Valana! You owe me money!” A gnome waved a sword at the elf. “And I don’t see you hurrying to give it back!”

“What? I don’t owe you anything! You and that asshole beat my partner up and took his haul!” She pointed at the innkeeper again. “You’re lucky I didn’t just toss you into the Watch’s arms for that!”

“Lucky? Hah! You wouldn’t dare cross even the shadiest Watch guard now! I bet you stole the purse!”

“If I did, it would have been just reparation!"

The whole bar devolved into a mix of slurs and accusations. Paultin renounced in following anything and gulped down a large chunk of his drink. He wanted to finish it before the shit really hit the fan.

The innkeeper looked at the chaos around him and swiftly turned back to the armored woman.

“You… this is your fault!”

The next second happened in a blur. His crowbar hit the woman’s bracer with a loud clang. Her punch flew to his skull. The man crashed on the ground with a thud.

All hell broke loose.

Tables with food were sent flying. War cries echoed through the tavern. The elf clashed sword with the gnome, and the drunk sent his chair at another man with a roar. Paultin quickly ducked out of his seat and behind the counter, finishing his glass with a swing as terrified women’s screams erupted through the chaos.

Welp. There goes his bed for the night. At least, it was not his fault this time. Mostly.

The bard moved a hand through his sweaty blond hair, ignoring the brawl while he could, already planning his escape. He enjoyed chaos as much as the next guy, just not when said chaos involved getting personally punched in the face.

“Hey! Are you alright?”

He flinched at the voice. She was right there. The armored woman. Looking down above the counter. Her golden locks were surrounding her pristine smile.

“Oh-oh god...” he managed to say with a slur, a hand on his fast-pacing heart.

“Oh, I’m sorry! Ah didn’t mean to scare you!” Her attention was momentarily diverted when she ducked under a flying bottle before she continued. “It’s simply that mah new friends informed me the guards ‘round here were not the most disposed to listen to reason, and that we probably should avoid them and leave… D’you wanna come with us?”

He blinked. He was unsure what was the most surprising about this: that the woman's smile could grow so large… or that he was seriously considering her offer.

Huh.

“...Sure.” The words were barely escaping his lips and he was already half-regretting them. If there was an illustration for unending happiness, the woman’s face would be it as she stretched a gloved hand to his nose.

“Great! Let’s go!”

Paultin swapped the hand away gently.

“H-hang on. I gotta… you know what? You wait outside. I’ll be with you in a second.”

“Oh…” She hesitantly retracted her hand. “Okay… well… scream if you need anything until then, alright?”

He nodded, even though there was no way he would be heard from outside through the cacophonous fight. The woman disappeared behind the counter, leaving him to collect his thoughts. A voice in his head commented on how much of an idiot drunk he was for his thoughtless decision.

“Yeah? Well, fuck you too; you’re not the boss of me,” he grumbled as he slowly rose up to his feet, keeping low enough to avoid any loose projectiles as he made his way to his Inn room. He needed to get his things before anything else. As he left the safety of the counter to get to the door, he looked warily at the large brawl, and caught sight of the innkeeper, still lying unconscious on the ground. From one single punch.

...Okay. That was pretty cool.

~~

“He said he’ll be here in a second!” the armored woman clamored as she went through the Rusted Pommel Inn’s front door. Hearing this, Strix clutched the three tattered layers of hoods on her head nervously and threw an anxious look at her rogue companion.

“Wha? I thought we were leaving already!” She was trying to whisper and avoid the intimidating armored human woman’s attention, but she had the unfortunate habit of getting loud when she was afraid. “Why aren’t we leaving? You said the docks were a bad place to be found in! This is bad! Why are we waiting for that guy? We should go now!”

Diath raised a reassuring hand to her, nodding at her every words.

“This is fine, Strix. We’ve still got some times. The fight has barely started. We’ll be gone before they see us.”

Strix saw the way his eyes were darting in all directions, wary of any potential danger in spite of what he told her. The gloved hand of the armored lady almost touched Strix’s shoulder and she recoiled from it with a shriek.

“Now, now; it’s fine,” the woman assured, her smoothing motherly tone accentuated by her calming hand gesture. “That unpleasant man cannot reach you now. You’re both safe and within the protection of the light.”

Strix hunched down with a whimper, making sure her head was fully covered and her tail tucked under her robe. Diath came in between her and the stranger.

“Thank you for your intervention. We’re sincerely in a debt to you, and we wish we could repay it with more than our meager savings.”

The armored lady stared for a moment, then gave out a small laugh and waved a hand.

“Oh, it’s nothing worth your gold! Ah just did what I thought was right, you know? You two seem like good people, and how much of a servant of the morning lord would I be if Ah did not help good people in trouble?”

Strix and Diath had to exchange a look at that. They had been called by many names, but ‘good people’ was not something which was thrown at them often… or at least, it was not thrown often at Strix. Something that the woman had said caught Strix’s attention and she braved her fear to speak up.

“When you say ‘the morning lord’… you mean...”

The woman’s lips twisted right up and she raised her hands to the sky

“Ah mean our lord of the dawn himself! Lathander the great! Praise be his light and the life that he brings us!”

Strix’s nose instantly wrinkled. Her rat Stinky shuffled through her robes.

“Oh, great. We’ve got ourselves a power lover here.” She groaned to Diath, her grip on her hoods tighter than ever. “This will be fun...”

Diath raised an eyebrow to her direction, but the door to the Inn opened again, interrupting further discussion. Strix recognized the blond man dressed in purple and yellow stepping out as the bard who had been blowing through bagpipes all evening. A decent sound to her ears, in spite of the occasional dissonance his drunken state had brought. He quickly shut the door behind him, muffling the noise of the ongoing brawl.

The sweating man gave the three people in front of him a glance before he massaged his head.

“Whoo... Man… let me tell ya, things are not usually that lively this time of year. The new album hasn't even come up yet!”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here!” The armored lady took the hand of the bard and turned to Strix and Diath. “So… this is Paultin Seppa. He’s an extremely talented bard around those parts! I’m sure you’ve heard of him, he’s been touring around town pretty successfully already! I wouldn’t be surprised if he was invited at a noble's court soon!”

As she was going on, Paultin’s face seemed to decompose a bit and he threw the armored lady a look.

“Oh… Okay. You know my full name. I didn't realise- Okay. This is not weird...”

The lady turned to him with a smile.

“Well, of course Ah know your name, silly! I’ve read the posts made about you performing nights!”

“Right. Of course.”

He nodded and took a wine-skin from his belt. As he uncorked it and brought it to his mouth, the lady let go of his hand and gestured at the other two.

“And Paultin? This is Strix and Diath. They’re the new friends I told you about. As I told Diath, since the three of you have nowhere to go for the night, Ah proposed that we all go sleep at my quarter at the barracks tonight! You’ll be safe from disturbance here, Ah promise!”

“Friends?” Strix muttered with a frown. “Since when are we ‘friends’?”

Diath ignored his companion’s remark and nodded.

“And that’s a very kind offer… we just wouldn’t want to cause you more trouble...”

“Oh, you’re not troubling me at all! I love making new friends!” the woman assured, her hands joining together. “Helping people in need is a sworn duty of mine, after all!”

“Well… alright, if you insist,” Diath relented. Strix saw him clutch his side and she forwent her distrust, letting concern for her companion replace it. The armored lady noticed the gesture as well, and her eyes grew wide.

“By the light of the morning lord! Are you okay?” She strode to Diath’s side and Strix made space for her. “You weren’t hurt in that brawl, were you?”

The rogue shook his head, his teeth grit.

“No… no, we just had an unfortunate encounter on the way here… It will heal by itself. It’s okay.”

It was the lady’s turn to frown.

“...Well, no wound of the sort will stay untreated under mah watch. Let me see that.”

She gently pried the rogue’s hand away and uncovered the red bandage under his shirt. She put her fingers on it and Strix saw the white magic flow from her palm to the wound as she hummed soothingly. Diath’s eyes widened and his body relaxed. When the lady was done, he tentatively touched his healed side and gave the woman a look of earnest gratitude.

“Thank you.”

Even Strix could not find something to complain about after that, although her eyebrows furrowed when the small armored lady touched Diath’s cheeks and she smiled.

“Ah am but a vessel for the light. As a paladin of Lathander, my duty is in preserving the light and beauty of this world. That includes the light within you.”

Strix made a gagging grimace at her words and Diath pushed the lady’s hands away in discomfort.

“Right. Um… you still haven’t told us your name-”

“Ah haven’t?” The paladin put a hand on her mouth and gasped in realization. “Oh my! Ah’m sorry! How uncouth of me!” She stepped away from Diath and gave the three of them a courteous bow. “Ah am Evelyn Marthain, of the noble Marthain family house. And Ah am here to serve!”

“Nice to meet you, Evelyn.” Diath gave her a nod as his eyes darted around. “Now… I don’t want to sound pushy… but we probably should get going now before trouble finds us again.”

“Oh! Most certainly! Good thinking!” She pointed to the end of the street. “The way to the barrack isn’t that far! Let’s go!”

She started trotting ahead. Strix waited for Diath’s reassuring smile before tailing him close as he followed the barmy paladin. Strix gave a wary look at the bard who was tagging the three of them along and secured her hood. The man only gave her and Diath passing curious glances, though. His eyes settled on Evelyn's back and he took another swing of his wine-skin.

...What did they get into this time?

Strix sighed and hunched closer to the rogue.