"I am well, for the Sun of Healing shines on me- oh, goddess, oh please, oh please..."
Aleksei turned his head, which throbbed with an ache so normal for him that mornings felt strangely empty without it. He had gotten into bed the wrong way the night before, and had stayed that way, glad to leave the ladies the pillows. He turned his head, and caught sight of Amilie, some of her chestnut brown ringlets pasted with sweat to her forehead and back, with her eyes pressed shut. She had turned out of the bed to put her feet on the floor, and was resting her head in her hands with her elbows on her knees.
"You are not feeling well?" he asked immediately, pulling his legs out from behind her as slowly as he could.
"Oh-" Amilie exclaimed with a start, whipping her head out of her hands at once. She winced at her own sudden movement, then sighed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."
"This is not needing apology," Aleksei grunted as he moved his legs around her and stood up. He casually realized that he was still unclothed, and was pleasantly surprised to see that the serving tray with a shot of frenzywater, one flagon of ale and another of beer was still where it had been the last time he saw it. "Someone is being busy this morning."
"Morning?" Udala laughed from the doorway behind him. "You forget the sun doesn't rise here. It's well into afternoon. You've been to water the wall vines twice, but this is the first I've seen this dumpling move."
"I am spending much time without sun," Aleksei shrugged after slamming the shot easily. "I am going outside three times. You are not moving before I am returning second time. Late morning you are bringing this back, but I am thinking that it is for you." He looked into the ale briefly, deciding to take the beer first this time. Amilie, who had put her head back in her hands, laughed weakly, the edge of sickness in her throat. Aleksei looked over the edge of his flagon at her, noting the weakness in her hands and the weary way she breathed. "Please to bring me maybe some water, yes?"
Udala raised an eyebrow. "Water? You?"
Paying less attention to this comment than to Amilie's slow, deliberate breathing, Aleksei put his flagon down and wrapped his shendyt around his hips as he'd done for so many years. "I am maybe not feeling well- maybe needing some dry bread. Soon."
And Udala, who vaguely remembered realizing there really was enough of the Dragonborn for two women the night before, watched without a spark of jealousy for just a few moments while he picked Amilie up as though he were her dedicated partner. Without another word, she walked back into the bar to do as he had asked.
Aleksei stood cradling Amilie until she rested in his arms and laid her head on his shoulder, then walked slowly toward the rude door that separated their room from the rest of the darkened quarter of town.
"I am well, for the Sun of Healing-" Amilie's threadbare prayer was interrupted by a threatening gurgle in her throat that ended in a warning belch.
"The sun hides his face from this place," Aleksei counseled. "He is not coming to your call. But you will be feeling much better in, say, half hour. You will have terrible half hour, but after that, much better. Like with first drink."
"Oh goddess, I don't want to think of drinking," Amilie groaned. She had closed her eyes and utterly surrendered her weight to the Dragonborn, who sat her down on the small stone wall that protected the wall vines outside- between his legs, instead of just sitting on his lap. She leaned on him, then shifted to his upper legs for balance for a few moments, but once gently encouraged to sit up, she instantly took the position that she had been holding on the edge of the bed since she'd awakened. "I have no idea what happened after we got here. That isn't even my room."
Aleksei laughed gently. "I do not know if you are wanting to know. So many do not wish to remember their nights when the day comes."
Udala appeared with a glass of water, a bucket, a small plate of dry bread and Aleksei's half consumed beer. Without turning his attention from Amilie, he simply reached his left arm straight out toward her. "Yes, I thought you might want this too," she explained as she put the beer into his hand. She wondered how he knew where she was without turning to see her with his working eye, then wondered if it were rude of her to think that way.
"I am much needing all these, yes," Aleksei said calmly, listening intently to Amilie's shortening breath. "Please to put the bucket right in front of me."
Udala, somehow not sure which reveler was really about to be sick, walked in front of Aleksei and put the bucket some distance away from him, sliding it toward him with her bare foot.
For his part, he cuddled close to Amilie, setting his beer down at arm's length on the low wall. "We are having very good time, just as you are saying before you are taking us to this place. We are singing many songs from old countries- You are from Daerlun, and I am much reminding you of dragon cult that still I do not understand," he soothed, running a careful hand up from Amilie's mid back to the shallow valley between her shoulder blades. "I am asking you little questions. You are trying to explain, but- this Common- it is maybe little more difficult for me when I am drinking. One night soon, you will explain more to me. Please to drink this water, yes?"
"Oh, yes- yes to all of those things, yes." Pulling some of her sweaty hair off her face, Amilie finally noticed that she was not wearing her own clothing, but instead a much-too-long tunic. "Goddess- how did this happen? Whose shirt is this?"
"After I am coming back from beating big Human fool who is throwing his drink at barmaid, she is having to wear someone else's clothing to continue working. So we are thinking it is funny game to also wear each other's clothing," Aleksei mused, sipping at his beer cautiously while watching her. "You are wearing shirt given me by guard here, which I am never wearing, but always carrying. Udalka is trying to wear your dress, but your corset is too long, and her clothing is too small for me everywhere, so I am wearing nothing. I am staying that way all night, so we are not coming out of room again." After this happy pronouncement, Aleksei turned his head for a few moments to take a short swig of beer.
"I'm so sorry, I just- feel so poorly- how- how do you keep going?" Amilie sighed shallowly. "I'm only smelling it and I feel so sick."
Aleksei, suspecting that this was the case, handed the rest of his beer back to Udala, who finished it with a mild concern flickering in her cloudy eyes. "Good night is always paid for with bad morning," he suggested. "But I am maybe becoming better drunk with much practice, yes?"
"Oh gods, practice," Udala chuckled to herself, ducking back inside the room to dispose of the empty flagon.
Amilie first began laughing along, but it rapidly morphed into choking. Glad to have both hands free, Aleksei quickly grabbed hold of all her hair and held it back as she violently pitched forward to vomit into the waiting bucket. Her body, apparently unused to such heaving, trembled like a taut bowstring, the vibrations so strong that Aleksei had to consciously ignore the mixed messages that they were sending up his thighs. She tried to sit back up after those few agonized moments, but Aleksei knowingly rubbed her back, waiting for the second round. He didn't have to wait very long, and the second bout of illness took much longer than the first wave had.
"Know the game backwards and forwards," Udala hollered, mildly disgusted, as she returned from inside. "Had a lot of practice, did you?"
Aleksei sighed and nodded his head just slightly, never taking his attentions from Amilie. He kept his mouth closed on the smell of two solid belches that rumbled within him, but Amilie still responded by heaving the third time, which was mostly thin and clear. The Dragonborn looked up, shifting his head to indicate that it was time for the water, then allowed Amilie to sit straight.
"Better, yes?" he smiled grimly as he kissed her left temple gently and let her hair fall from his hands. "Still you are very beautiful."
Amilie swished the first bit of water around in her mouth and spat it into the bucket, wincing at the smell. "Beautiful? That all came out of me," she marveled with a touch of dizzy amazement. "I'm really so sorry. It was- well, it sounds like- it was such a good night, and then I have to go and do this."
"Eh," Aleksei shrugged, leaning on the tavern wall himself. "I am difficult to offend. You are maybe drinking more mead than rum before this."
"Mmn, that's true," the Human female laughed weakly after sipping at the water. "Don't know if I'll be drinking at all for a while."
"But we are having good time, all of us, as you are saying before," Aleksei encouraged. "Much drinking, much singing, much talking, the teaching and the learning- and, much good love making. It is excellent night- one we are maybe trying again... maybe, little differently. This time, we are drinking what you drink, instead of other way."
"Speak for yourself," Udala crabbed, crossing her arms. "I've not daintily sipped at mead since leaving my mother's knees. Want your ale, huh?"
"Ah- this is maybe little inconsiderate of me. But I cannot refuse," the Dragonborn laughed as his Udala disappeared into the room.
"It's alright- I feel better now," Amilie managed as she gingerly walked over to the place where Udala had been to nab a few pieces of dry bread to nibble on. When she left his embrace, Aleksei recovered the bucket and looked around the side of the tavern for a good place to dump its contents. As Amilie was turning around to point out an old dry well, she was surprised by a wood Elf with disapproval printed rather plainly on his age-worn face. He reminded her so much of her grandfather that she couldn't speak to him. He stepped past her, crossed his arms over his chest, and spoke for himself.
"Voyonov?"
"Da," came the reply from the other side of the building. In a few moments, Aleksei appeared with the empty bucket, which still reeked enough to make the elder wrinkle his nose in disgust. Seeing this, Aleksei instantly put his hand to the wall as though he needed to steady himself and breathed just slightly heavier than was necessary for his effort. Amilie blushed, embarrassed that he was covering for her illness.
"Paying for it now, eh, lad?"
The Dragonborn shrugged, chuckling weakly. "Ah, pride. Always one is paying for thinking he is more man than truly he is."
Udala, who'd heard this statement with a raised eyebrow, simply stood in the doorway with the ale, wondering if the Sylvan was fooled by this well-tuned act.
"True enough, true enough. Now, trouble thyself to check in, eh? Here I finds thee, back here with thy pair of shiny toys, who was doing nothing but nuzzling up to thee and to each other all night- thou'lt have thyself in for the aberration, lad. It's not a body in that tavern not talking thy name for it. What's done between just one man and one woman may be winked at, but this- Alek, it's not done here, eh? It's illegal, and they'll stone thy scaly hide but good."
"Did you get out of your lonely stone bed only to come and kick dust at a male that slept with two companions on a softer one?" Udala crabbed, marching by the Elf to stand protectively in front of Aleksei. The Halfling was about two thirds of the wood Elf's size, so the surprise on his face when he saw the source of this rebuke was amusing both for Aleksei and Amilie. Sometimes it was hard to believe that an attitude so big could radiate from someone so- not big. "While your sharp ears rested with the other Merchant's Council Mercenaries, he quieted a brawl without breaking anyone's bones, stopped a drunk from abusing his waitress, and prevented a kidnapping."
Aleksei shook his head to quiet the Halfling, saying nothing in his own defense. Contemplating the ale she'd brought him, he put the bucket down and took it from her with a thoughtful hum.
"What shall thee find in there?" the Sylvan sighed. "Thou'lt only buy thyself another hangover, trying to cure this one with more to drink."
"The ladies- and the soldier." With a casual smirk, Aleksei sat down on the short wall, toasted, and took a long drink.
"Pelor's dress, he's stone," Amilie wondered, walking toward him with her glass of water only half gone. Feeling better than she had before, she sat next to him and assumed a natural position- one foot folded under her on the short wall that was mostly meant for decoration. The shirt she was wearing rested lovingly between her legs, and the wood Elf at long last recognized it for what it was. "There's no stomach in there, just another keg."
"Heh," Aleksei scoffed, sitting the drink down away from her. "This is close to truth. It is not true what you are thinking, that you are not smart. Can learn the divination, yes, if this is still what you want."
"Hey, speaking of bone rattlers and smoke breathers, it's some one of thy kind with a crazy multicolored getup calling himself looking to talk to thee," Trelwynen sighed. "If it wasn't for my hope that some priest could talk thee out of spots like this, I'd not have told him where I was going."
Aleksei took one strong pull and leaned back to sigh a belch out. "If truly he is looking, he will find me- without any help from anyone."
"Ugh, the smell- the smell of it," Amilie complained weakly, sitting up off the wall and putting her slender hand to her face.
"What a lovely effect you have on people you claim to care for," a grave voice grunted. "Perversion, dirty carousing and lazing about until well past midday."
Aleksei simply turned his back to the source of the voice. "You will not find who you are looking for here."
"You look for comfort in every drink and every female, Bloodtalon." A male Dragonborn who looked to be older than Aleksei stepped out into the torchlight, leaning on a staff that it did not appear as though he really needed. "What right have you to denounce any hopeless quest while you pursue your own?"
"I am not Bloodtalon."
"You will always be Bloodtalon- but you are covering- acting, pretending, hiding. It's dishonorable. Look at you." The priest moved forward and touched Aleksei, who immediately pulled away- but the damage had been done. Aleksei shuddered slightly as he felt the breath of the red dragon engulf him. He could almost feel the cold deerskin flap that separated the small place of worship from the cold waste outside at his fingertips.
"A sad reaction, to move away from one trying to help you. Understand, Sir Trelwynen, that the male you see before you is a deserter."
The screams of the women as the two-handed blade swung in beautiful, calculated arcs that had felled experienced Tiefling soldiers and utterly shocked Dragonborn nobles who had opposed the wrong commander. Arcs that took their heads from their shoulders, punched jagged holes through their throats or ripped their midsections open. The ale, a little more than half finished, hit the ground.
"He has been part of many armies, many armed guards, many protecting forces- he was once on the front lines of the Arkhosian-Turathi War. In fact, he was the youngest commander the army had, and once one of the most successful. That makes his current condition all the more pitiable."
An intense pain began to radiate from Aleksei's chest, and he winced slightly, trying to keep it from becoming too obvious. There could only be one reason for its sudden power- he struggled to systematically check the rooftops around him, reminding himself that at least three innocent people were very close to him.
"But time after time, he has dropped out of disciplined organizations, falling prey to strong drink and loose females- sometimes, even other males. All due to the desertion of the true faith; the way he swore to and then ran from, like a common coward."
All around him, the low walls and rough wood benches rapidly deteriorated into the overturned pews. The dry well became instead the offering altar that he had profaned by using it as a guillotine.With the moans and shrill shrieks of his victims shredding his mind, Aleksei was lucky to catch just one tell tale flash. It darted away from the edge of a roof and seemed to simply disappear into thin air, but the old soldier knew better than to believe that.
"Please- please to go inside," he breathed very quietly. The command wasn't lost on Amilie, who got up as quickly as her unsteady balance allowed. Aleksei could hear her hiss at Udala, who for once, did exactly as she was directed without reply.
"Don't want them to hear?" the elder Dragonborn scoffed. "Embarrassed of your inglorious past at last? Over twenty years you have wasted in taverns just like this one, hiding from what you are. What you were always destined to become."
"Ostav'te menja v pokoe-" The pain grew so great that Aleksei could hardly breathe. The Sylvan- Trelwynen, Aleksei reminded himself carefully- and the cause of his bloody reverie were both in open air, between the back wall of the tavern and the walls of the derelict houses on the other side. The perpetual darkness of the place would not help them. "Inside, Elf," he managed, his voice sounding strange to his own ears. Strange? No. Far too familiar.
"Eh, lad?" Trelwynen shot back, surprised at the deepening of his partner's tone. Instead of doing as he was commanded, he picked his head up to look at the rooftops that seemed to have captivated the unarmed soldier. He pulled his bow, which he had pridefully refused to check at the door of the tavern, but didn't yet ready an arrow. "Not while thee sees something out here."
"A distraction," the older Dragonborn explained. "A pitiful fight against his true path. You might tell your superior that he is on his way to utter breakdown, if you cared for him at all. He needs guidance."
"Ja ne budet prinimat' zakazy ot vas." Aleksei, finally turned around, his eye catching the intelligent yellow-brown eyes of the old priest. His robes, well-crafted and richly adorned, were a clear indicator of his status as wyrmkeeper. Upon actually looking the male full in the face, the agony within him seemed to triple, feeling as though it would soon stop his heart. Aleksei watched the corpses of his temple slaughter get up to accuse him, pointing to the blood that painted screeching portraits across the walls and the ground.
"You flee the arms of she who knows you, and seek instead the god that will not listen. He will never listen to you. You cannot escape yourself, nor the work of your hands," the wyrmkeeper urged in what should have been a soothing tone. But under his voice were the more concerned words of all the supposed rebels.
Charging past the priest, Aleksei grabbed an unsuspecting Trelwynen by the neck, easily pushing him inside the tavern's back door. A split second later, a dagger that would have split the Sylvan's head in two caught Aleksei near his lower ribs. He breathed deeply, the pain of the wound no match for that which had already entirely engulfed his chest. Simply reaching around himself and pulling the blade out, he turned a cold eye to the very shaken wood Elf.
"Stay," he commanded, the single word as heavy as lead.
"Voyonov?"
The faltering quality of his voice was annoying- and tempting. Purposefully turning his back, Aleksei pushed himself away. The world around him contorted into a warped battlefield; bouts of balefire bringing tortured young Dragonborn to their knees, Tieflings being run through by multiple poisoned arrows, and the great red dragon soaring through the sky, reveling not in the protection of an empire, but in the simple death and destruction. As Aleksei walked through the blood-soaked area, he heard phantom shuddering cries and clutched the dagger tighter, intending to bring a swift death to whatever weakling was so calling for it.
"Aleksei?"
"Lyoshenka?"
The Dragonborn soldier turned sharply, and was hugged fiercely and fearlessly by the very source of the crying. Without really looking to see who it was, he prepared to strike it away from him.
"Why did you leave?"
"Ja poterjal tebja tozhe?"
The power of the memory of his mother, a radiantly upright woman who loved him even while he was destroying the last place she held dear in the world, stopped the Dragonborn cold. He felt her weakening grip on his shoulder, saw the beautiful, light crystal blue eyes that his father had once claimed were plucked from Bahamut's very face. The shadow of the red dragon pulled away from his mind, draining down the darkened streets like the vomit that he'd earlier dumped down a convenient alleyway. Suddenly physically weak, he recognized and dropped Bahlzair's silver dagger, stunned that he'd even touched the thing. Wrapped around his waist like a living chain was none other than Amilie, barefooted, still shamelessly wearing only his shirt. Closing his eyes and feeling the pain that had engulfed him drain slowly out of his body, he laid his scarred and battered left hand on her head.
"Ah, Lishka, I- cannot answer."
"You're hurt- and I'm still sick. Let's find us a priest-" Amilie stood straight, moving back slightly so that she could look up at the amazingly sober Dragonborn. "-one that will heal us, instead of doing whatever that other thing did. I always had my suspicions about those dragon people. They say they're not the Cult, but they're just like the nutters in Daerlun, and I bet they don't do anybody any good, do they?"
"Nyet," Aleksei sighed, unable to keep his hopelessness out of his voice. "Always they will be evil. Always."
Amilee squinted, some soggy memory struggling to come to light for a few moments before she took a decisive breath and shook her head clear. "Never mind them. Now, let's find us someone who will help."
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