The wetlands were just as Mariam remembered them, wet, dank, smelled like decaying matter, and the constant threat of Blight just around the corner. She hated to come to this part of the continent, but when it came to her bow, there was no one better to service the enchantments and inner core of the weapon than the artisans in Minrathous. Brought about by need, no doubt. And Mariam was particular about her bow, very few people besides her could touch it, lest she lose the luck she believed the weapon held. She was only as good as that bow, and she knew Gabe wouldn't fault her for having that belief. They had stayed alive as long as they had because of it.
The gentle sway of the horse under her, as they picked along the bare road, had her tired, she wanted a nap so badly, but she knew better than to delay them, and she was sure Gabe would appreciate getting to an inn for the evening instead. A warm bed, and warm food in their bellies, along with somewhere they'd be relatively assured no interruptions by dark spawn was always for the best. But, truth be told, after their last job, she was hesitant to do another. Someone wanted them dead, and she wasn't sure who, but she knew it couldn't be good. Traps specifically tailors to be as deadly as possible to their exact skill set. She couldn't remember anyone she had pissed off in recent years that would..
Maybe the job with Gabe's friend Lyric? The signet ring, stolen to sign paper work with and then returned. She didn't think they had left any trace, but, that would have fit the bill of someone being pissed off enough, and having enough money to mess with them. I hate it out here. In between visits I always forget how desolate and awful it is out here, and the only thing to eat is hams. Ham steak, ham bone soup, ham chowder, ham and potatoes. I'm so tired of ham, Gabe.. Could they have taken the Eluvian? Sure. Would Mariam had ever stopped complaining about it, probably not. She hated travel by them, felt sort of.. icky, once through. Cold. Unnatural. Two feet and a horse suited her just fine. Take me to dinner somewhere fancy in the city? Maybe somewhere that serves some beef? Or something other than salt pork? We'll have to be around a day or two while they work on her anyway. Enforced vacation, as she liked to call it. Hossberg at their back, and the Imperial Highway before them, they'd make Minrathous by nightfall at their current pace.
Maybe they'd find something to poke their noses into in the city?
Gabe rode alongside her, one hand loosely gripping the reins, the other fiddling with a cigarette he'd managed to keep dry in the damp. The ember flared dimly, mirroring the glint of his sharp eyes as he scanned the horizon.
You know, I don’t think the ham’s the real problem, Mariam. It’s the soul-crushing monotony of it. Out here, even the food’s given up on having personality. Gabe took a slow drag from his cigarette, flicking the ash without care. But yeah, I’m with you—ham can sod off. First thing in the city, we’re finding you a proper plate of something that once mooed.
Fancy dinner, though? You drive a hard bargain. Sure, let’s call it a celebration—surviving the muck, dodging death traps, and your bow getting the royal treatment. But don’t get too posh on me. If there’s a dress code, I’ll have to nick a tie from someone.
He smirked, adjusting his coat against the damp chill. A couple days, eh? That’s plenty of time to enjoy ourselves and maybe stir up a bit of trouble while we’re at it. Wouldn’t want anyone thinking we’ve gone soft, would we?
I will say, ham is better than nug. You remember that one trip where all we had was nug? Mariam shuddered as she remembered that job. It had been two weeks on the road, with only fresh and dried nug, and for the first couple days they had had bread, but that had gone quickly. But with the promise of something that hadn't been a ham at some point, she brightened some. I'll hold you to that Gabe, I've had a hankering for some mash and vegetables here the past few days. We don't eat nearly as much as we should on trips like this. And there's these little places with meat on sticks in Minrathous, in the parts of town we'd be more comfortable in.
If her information held true, which it usually did. She didn't play with her intel when it came to places to eat and get her bow's magic serviced. One of these days, I'm going to have to learn how to do this on my own, but for now I'll keep making my own arrows and trusting others to service her properly. And as the amount of people who knew how to service lyrium cored weapons were becoming fewer and fewer, she might actually end up having to do it all on her own anyway. But, one problem at a time.
You have any ideas on that trouble? There's a black market in there somewhere, dealing in art and magic items, that I know of, at least. A couple bars we could crawl our way through, but the place has been locked up so long that I'm not sure if I know anyone in there anymore or not. They locked it up tight for so long, that I feel almost like we're going into a vast unknown, that we should actually treat like a job as far as the chances we could get seriously injured. Probably less traps than we're used to, but a lot more of the stabbing types of dangers. She made a movement akin to someone driving a shiv into a side several times. It wasn't out of the question that one of both of them would have to dodge a blade or two during their stay. It was just the way there life was.
Gabe exhaled smoke through his nose, watching it curl into the damp air like a lazy ghost. His grin was sharp, a flicker of teeth in the dim light.
Oh, I remember the nug. You think ham’s bad? At least it doesn’t stare back at you while you’re eating it. Nug stew, nug jerky, nug roasted over a fire—it’s like chewing regret. Can’t believe we survived that without stabbing each other. He shook his head, flicking ash off to the side. So yeah, meat on sticks? Sounds downright civilized by comparison.
Gabe rolled his shoulders, shifting in his saddle. His coat had taken on that damp, clinging weight that came with travel through miserable places, and he was itching for dry clothes and a stiff drink.
As for trouble, you know me—I’m flexible. Art and magic markets sound like the kind of place we could poke around in without getting immediately gutted. Probably. Could be something interesting there, or someone willing to pay for a quick hand. And bars? Well, a few drinks in the right places might shake some useful information loose.
He met her gaze, amusement flickering in his eyes. Besides, if we’re treating this like a proper job, we might as well get paid. No sense getting stabbed for free, yeah?
He sighed, running a hand through his hair before settling back into the rhythm of the ride. But if you’re asking if I think it’s dangerous? Hell yes. Always is. Stabbing hazards are easier to spot than some well-laid trap, though, and I’d rather face a knife than another bloody death maze tailored to kill us specifically. At least a bloke with a blade is predictable.
A pause. Then, with a smirk, Of course, now that I’ve said that, we’ll probably get both. Just our luck.
To be fair, I think I had the dagger in hand at some point to stab you, but you gave me an easy wink and I felt suddenly generous, like I sometimes do, Matiam teased back gently as she pulled up beside him, letting the horses fall into step with one another, and it made it easier to gently nudge him with her shoulder, mass of red hair gathered in one hand and drug back over her shoulder as she leaned in to get a good look at his face. She liked that grin. At times, that was. Sometimes that grin infuriated her.
As far as the markets I'd like to see if we can't find some things we could try and fence out east, maybe down south to anyone who fled from the blight down there. Could damn sure get some medicines out to Celine to smuggle where they're needed, and I don't feel quite as bad lifting potions off rich arseholes that have floating damn castles in the sky. How the hells do they get them the float in the first place, She realized it, too late, that she had opened herself up to a good tease because she knew good and damn well it was because of magic.
And I know it's magic, but, she sat back up in her saddle shoulders back and hair forgotten as it spilled back down her shoulders, Any gammy magic in there I should be especially concerned with. They're not as strict about the various forms of magic up here are they? She sniffed the air and then sighed.
Feather bed this time? I don't want to do my bag on the floor again, and a bath would be nice too. Or is that getting too fancy for ya?
Gabe gave her a look that sat somewhere between amusement and exasperation, lips curled around the cigarette like it was the only thing holding back a tirade.
You nearly stabbed me because of the nug. That wasn’t generosity, that was self-preservation. His grin widened a touch, wolfish and unapologetic. But I’ll take the wink over a punctured lung any day, so cheers for that.
He let her little nudge rock him, then straightened in the saddle, cracking his neck like the motion might shake off the weight of the last few days.
Fencing goods, helping Celine, sticking it to the sky-castle bastards? That’s a shopping list I can get behind. We do a bit of good, line our pockets, piss off the kind of people who deserve it—feels like old times. He paused, then added with a smirk, And let’s be honest, if anyone’s getting stabbed on this trip, it’s going to be one of those rich pricks with a floating balcony and no common sense.
When she mentioned the floating castles again, he let the silence hang just long enough to make her realize what she’d said.
How do they float? Magic, Mariam. It's magic. Like your bow. Like your ridiculous luck. Like that hair of yours still managing to look halfway decent out here while I smell like a dead bog fiend. He made a dramatic sniffing gesture and grimaced. Gods, even the air out here’s got mildew.
As for her question on magic regulation, Gabe snorted softly, a sound without much humor.
Minrathous? They don’t care what kind of magic you’re slinging, long as you’ve got coin or clout. Blood, entropy, spirit—whatever your flavor, they’ve got someone peddling it in a back alley or a chandelier-lit hall. So yeah, keep your eyes open. Not everyone there believes in consequences.
He took another drag, the cigarette nearly spent now, and flicked the butt out into the road.
And don’t worry, we’re not doing the floor this time. You’ve earned yourself a feather bed, hot bath, and a dinner that didn’t come out of a canteen. I’m not that much of a bastard.
Beat.
Just don’t expect me to wear anything with buttons.
