Chapter Text
He really makes friends everywhere he goes, huh. Therion considered Alfyn while passively listening to the apothecary ramble about some fellow he met in Noblecourt. Kit or something. Affable and humble as Alfyn was, it came as no surprise that people were quick to take a shine to him. Therion himself included.
It was that last point that had him questioning things. As someone who cultivated a healthy amount of suspicion towards anything and everything, Therion had to wonder about Alfyn’s almost preternatural ability to charm people. And thus he sat ruminating on the more arcane bits of magical knowledge he had acquired over the years. Just because Alfyn didn’t seem the dishonest sort didn’t mean there wasn’t something going on there. Certainly it served him better than reflecting on what was most definitely not going on with Albright.
The memory of being caught in his arms was shoved ruthlessly down into the deepest, darkest pit in Therion’s mind, never to be unearthed.
Or so he would like to say, but that was a task easier said than done when there was so little else to do on enforced rest but think. Alfyn had been staunchly adamant about Therion taking it easy after his injury. Even though the gash had since healed over the cracked rib was another matter and it had Alfyn watching him like a hawk. He wasn’t yet permitted to return to full activity so as not to put undue stress on it. Accelerated healing through magic or no, a broken bone was a broken bone.
To that end, the group had taken a carriage down to the coast before switching to a boat to cross the Middlesea back towards Bolderfall. It was the most idle Therion had been since his miserable convalescence from that event.
Really, it was inevitable that his thoughts kept circling back to that moment in Orlick’s manor. He had never been prone to physical demonstrations of comradery or affection, and after everything that had gone down with a certain regrettable acquaintance even a casual touch was often enough to set him off. The lack of discomfort when Albright grabbed him was shocking on its own, but what’s more he found himself thinking he wouldn’t mind if it happened again—
No. He would rather focus on the oddities in his life, not secret cravings blindsiding him. Like Alfyn and his puppy-like charm. Or how recently there had been a few too many reminders of a time he hated thinking about. It made him feel ill at ease. Others would perhaps accuse him of being overly superstitious, however he knew better than most how to recognize when there was a godly hand involved. Things were stirring in Orsterra, though to what end and how Darius played into it remained to be seen.
Therion scowled to himself, eyes dropping to watch the waves rippling across the water. All this thinking was getting him nowhere. Alfyn’s chatter had ceased, so it was time for a different distraction. “What is it Albright? You’ve been staring at me for some time.”
“Oh!” the man whose gaze had been fixated on him exclaimed. “My apologies. I was lost in thought. And really, do call me Cyrus. I feel we are familiar enough by now for you to use my first name.”
Therion smirked in amusement at the scholar’s presumption of their closeness. “Whatever. You’re avoiding the question.”
“I suppose there’s no point in prevaricating,” Albright conceded with an almost theatrical display of surrender. Therion chalked up the, dare he say, fond smile that followed to his imagination. “There was something I was wondering about: did Lady Ravus tell you anything as to the purpose of the Dragonstones? Ever since you recovered the Ruby Dragonstone I’ve been curious. From Orlick’s behavior alone it’s clear that it’s no mere trinket.”
“We didn’t exactly sit down for tea and trade family gossip,” Therion sighed out. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, not wanting to call attention back to that particular topic.
Albright’s smile turned coy. “Come now, you expect me to think that you were content to go on the hunt for these items without knowing their backstory?”
“Heh. You’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?” Therion spun to place his back to the water, propping his elbows up on the railing as he leaned back. “Sorry to disappoint, but Ravus didn’t seem to know much beyond the fact that they’d been in her family’s care for generations. Nothing about their purpose or even where they came from. And if her so-called butler knew more, he sure wasn’t talking.”
“Seems kinda strange, keepin’ something in the family and not knowin’ why,” commented Alfyn. The intent way the apothecary ran his fingers over his herb satchel led Therion to believe there was a story there.
“Heirlooms are passed down for all sorts of reasons. If it goes on for long enough, it’s understandable that those very reasons may become lost,” Albright mused. Returning his attention back to Therion, he asked, “Did you not do your own digging?”
“With what resources?” Therion lifted his arm and glared at the bangle—no, the bane of his existence. “This severely hampers my ability to walk into any legitimate business, including libraries ,” as though he could be bothered to steal books , even if others apparently found it a worthwhile pastime, “and the common people of Bolderfall know less than nothing about the resident noble family.”
Understanding lit Albright’s face. “Ah. Yes, I can see how that would make things difficult. Yet another thing I can ask Odette. If anyone would have an idea of where to start looking for information, it would be her.”
“Worth a shot,” Therion said with an air of nonchalance and possibly a hint of what might be misconstrued as gratitude. The lack of information had been bothering him. Although, now that he thought about it, there was another avenue he could try. He hadn’t considered it before, because he didn’t think it was a big enough deal to involve them , but with how unsettled he’d felt since picking up the Ruby Dragonstone…
Shouted commands drew Therion out of his thoughts as the ship’s crew scuttled about trimming the sails to adjust for the changing winds. A distant smudge on the horizon meant that they were coming within sight of the western shore. Soon enough they would be making landfall and then it would be on to Bolderfall and the Ravus matriarch to deliver the first recovered Dragonstone and check in for information on the others. Therion prayed without much hope that the last two required less legwork to retrieve. He was exhausted just thinking about it.
There was a strange woman on the uppermost level of Bolderfall when Therion arrived, standing outside the gated walls of Ravus Manor and gazing out over the rest of the town. A nearby besotted-looking guardsman stared after her, sighing like a lovestruck fool. Whatever was going on there was not Therion’s problem. And nobody could force him to make it his problem since he managed to convince the meddlesome apothecary and the curious scholar to remain in the lower town to wait for him.
He strode past the odd tableau with purpose, only to be halted at the gate of the manor. At some point while he was arguing with the guards that yes, he had permission to be there, and yes, the lady of the house would say the same, Heathcote made a timely appearance.
“Ah, Mr. Therion, there you are. The Lady is expecting you,” the elderly butler greeted cordially.
Of course she is , Therion thought as he followed the man inside, a touch wry. Heathcote was no simple butler, no matter what he claimed, and he was as wily as they come. No doubt he kept close watch on the town to know all the comings and goings so as to not be caught unprepared. The two made their way into a brightly-lit parlor, where Cordelia Ravus sat poised before a modest tea spread.
The woman turned to Therion with a polite smile. “Welcome back, Mr. Therion. I’m glad to see you safe. Please, have a seat. I trust you were successful?”
“I think the result speaks for itself,” he said, ignoring the offer. He produced the Ruby Dragonstone with a bit of sleight of hand. It tingled slightly against his fingers, and he had to force himself to calmly set it on the table rather than chuck it like he was tempted.
Neither Heathcote nor Ravus shared in his misgivings, the butler examining the stone first to confirm its authenticity before handing it off to his mistress, who immediately reached for it with a reverence usually reserved for holy relics. “Here it is. Back where it belongs,” she murmured mostly to herself. Eventually, she managed to pull her eyes away to return them to Therion. “You have my gratitude.”
“There is no need to thank him, m’lady. He’s merely fulfilling his end of the bargain,” Heathcote chided gently.
“Well, I think he has earned it,” she replied with a stubborn jut of her chin. “In fact, I think he has earned more than that. The bangle—”
A sharp bark of laughter from Therion interrupted her. He couldn’t help himself. He saw where this was going and was astounded by her naivety. “You really trust me enough to believe I’ll stick around after you remove this?” He jangled the band on his wrist pointedly. “This here is your guarantee that I’ll finish the job.”
Ravus pinned him with a shrewd gaze. “You don’t strike me as someone who would shirk responsibility,” she said.
Therion hadn’t a clue where she got that impression from. Gods wept, what was with all these people lately having such blind trust in him? Sure, he hadn’t run from being dragged into helping the odd person courtesy of Alfyn, but that was only because of Alfyn; that didn’t make him a good person. He had to look away from Ravus. In a deceptively mild tone, he told her, “For your own good, you’d better learn not to put too much faith in people. You’ll only get hurt when that faith is betrayed.”
“Mr. Therion…” Ravus stood and almost reached out to him in a seemingly unconscious desire to provide comfort.
“He does have a point, m’lady, loath as I am to agree with him,” Heathcote cut in. “Best not to remove the band just yet.” Even as he said it, the butler sidled in close. Since Therion knew to be wary of him, he was on alert for any suspicious movements. The light pressure at his wrist did not go unnoticed. Therion gave the man a subtle questing look, but he only smiled back enigmatically. How troublesome.
“If you insist,” Ravus sighed, having missed the byplay.
“So what’s the news on the next Dragonstone?” Therion asked. He wanted to move the conversation along. Divining Heathcote’s intentions could wait for now, though he made a mental note to check the Fool’s Bangle later.
Getting a nod from the Lady, Heathcote explained, “My investigations have led me to believe that the Emerald Dragonstone is on its way to the black market, to be held in Wellspring in a month’s time. That will be your best chance to reclaim it.” However the man was getting his information, it was certainly not through legal channels. Everything this guy did screamed of sketchiness. Therion figured that was his cue to head out, now that he had his next lead.
“I’ll be off then,” he said, turning on his heel. “No need for a send-off this time. I’ve got enough of an entourage as it is.” Before Ravus could raise a word of protest, he saw himself out, hustling back down to the lower town to rejoin his traveling companions.
To absolutely zero surprise, neither were where he’d left them. It took minimal searching before he found Alfyn embroiled in what looked like a poor man’s war room meeting. Therion was only passingly familiar with the people of Bolderfall, but it wasn’t difficult to recognize the destitute of the slums. The frenzied air of righteous anger and the proliferation of makeshift weapons made it pretty clear from the onset what was happening. “I wasn’t even gone that long, Alfyn. How are you already involved in some kind of uprising?” he groaned in exasperation.
Alfyn grinned broadly and waved at him. “Oh heya, Therion!”
“At this rate I need to get you a minder,” Therion drawled back. “Where’d the professor wander off to?”
“I couldn’t say,” Alfyn admitted, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “I got caught up tendin’ to the sick when I met these folk. Didya know how bad things have gotten here? By the flame, the class disparity is somethin’ terrible.”
Anyone with eyes could see how dire the situation was. Bolderfall had the worst slum town of any place Therion had visited. Even so… “You don’t need to fix everyone’s problems, you know. Save some of that energy for yourself. It’s not like poverty is going to disappear just because you wish hard or yell loudly enough.” As someone who came from poverty himself, Therion was more than aware of the struggles these people went through; whether or not he had the sympathy to spare for their plight was another story. He didn’t have Alfyn’s bleeding heart.
The apothecary’s shoulders slumped. “Shucks, I know it ain’t that simple. I’m not trynta fix the world. I just want to help who I can.”
“Admirable. Just know what you’re getting into. This could get messy.” Though he had been ignoring the impromptu council, Therion now tuned back in as the current spokesperson began riling up the crowd. And they were eating it up. “Come on. Let’s hunt down Albright.”
“But what about—”
Therion gave in to the urge to roll his eyes. “We won’t leave them to hang. Between the three of us, we should be able to come up with a way to settle this that doesn’t end in a lynching.” Alfyn was all but glowing in enthusiasm at that. And possibly with pride, which Therion refused to attest to the reasoning for, and so pretended not to notice. They then tracked down their missing third so they could come up with a game plan.
Thus as was quickly becoming habit, Therion allowed himself to be turned into a busybody, helping the poor and downtrodden, and being far more involved in the lives of strangers than he’d ever imagined he’d be. What commenced was in essence a game of pass the message in order to set up a peaceful meeting between the grieved party and the handful of the aristocracy willing to make a change if only they knew how. By the end of it Therion was lamenting his odd attachment to Alfyn; he revisited the idea that he was bewitched with probably more seriousness than was warranted.
The trio remained in Bolderfall for the night, after deciding to make their way towards Quarrycrest next. Therion had some time yet before he could make a move for the next Dragonstone and he justified to himself that checking in with Albright’s colleague would be worth his while. He wasn’t turning a new leaf, wasn’t suddenly extolling the virtues of the unbreakable bonds of friendship or trailing after Alfyn and Albright because they had become attached at the hip. No, everything he did was to suit his own purpose.
Of course, the fact that he was still following Ravus’ bidding while a certain bangle on his wrist was not so conspicuously unlocked flew in the face of that. That, he told himself even as he buried all knowledge of the current status of the bangle, was only because now he had reason beyond escaping humiliation and enforced servitude for pursuing the Dragonstones. Curiosity was a vice for him as much as any scholar.
The non-stop nattering on the road the next day had him rethinking his conviction. Did Therion really need to subject himself to this slow torture? Blessed silence, how he missed it. Never mind the intrusive thoughts that tended to accompany it. (And never mind the fact that he felt more engaged with living than he had in years, not simply going through the motions, searching for his next mark with little thought as to what for.)
When another person materialized down the road, Therion received their approach with mixed relief. On the one hand, he was reaching his limit with the pair of social butterflies. On the other, here was someone else he would be forced to interact with.
“Hullo there, fellow travelers!” they called out once in earshot. Therion examined the man while the others gave greetings of their own. He was reasonably well-dressed—had the look of a merchant about him—with a plain, forgettable face. Other than the large pack he carried he was largely uninteresting. Until he started trying to peddle his wares. The thief was having none of that.
He inserted himself into the conversation. “We’re not buying whatever you’re selling,” he said firmly, projecting chilly disinterest. Alfyn lightly reprimanded him for his rudeness, to which Therion responded by pushing him away from the merchant. A guy like this was probably looking for someone to scam.
The merchant, however, didn’t seem a bit put out. Smile fixed fast to his face, he said, “Well that’s too bad. I was ready to offer you some nice deals. No matter.”
Therion had but a moment to process the sense of foreboding he got from those words. Without warning, a blast of dark energy erupted out of the man.
“Everyone get back!” Albright cried.
Skipping backwards, the thief landed in a crouch, weapons at the ready. Then before their eyes, the man’s form twisted and mutated until what was standing there wasn’t a man at all. The transformation resulted in some unnatural hybrid creature. Its armored scales gleamed in the sunlight between tufts of fur as it geckered at them, revealing sharp fangs dripping with venom.
“Oh, Aelfric, what is this?” Alfyn gasped in horror.
“Whatever it is, it doesn’t look friendly.” Not hesitating for a second, Therion lobbed a fireball at the creature. The thing evaded with unexpected agility, only a few strands of fur catching fire before quickly snuffing out. Therion narrowed his eyes. “So I say we hurry up and kill it.”
Thankfully Albright was quick on the uptake; a wall of fire was far harder to escape from at close range. The piercing shrieks of pain that followed were music to his ears. When they turned sharply to enraged snarling, Therion instinctually threw himself forward, practically colliding with Albright to drag him out of the path of the charging beast. A toothy maw snapped shut a hair too close for comfort.
His sword mostly glanced off the tough scales when he lashed out, but he succeeded in warding the thing off the professor. While he was keeping it occupied, a cool wash of magic flowed over Therion. From the flavor of it he suspected it to be some kind of poison resistance courtesy of Alfyn. Even so, he wasn’t getting anywhere near those fangs if he could help it.
The creature lunged and Therion caught the very teeth he didn’t want to mess with on the blade of his sword. He grunted at the strain of holding it back, nose scrunching at the foul breath that blew at him. It lurched back with a squeal, Alfyn’s axe cleaved into its side. Both of them then leapt away in time for another stream of fire to engulf their opponent.
It wasn’t over yet, though. Looking quite charred, the beast staggered closer, single-minded in its intent. Albright blasted it with lightning to temporarily stun it, and with twin roars Alfyn and Therion rushed it, spotting the gaps in its armored defenses and homing their respective weapons on them.
The dying wails were unearthly and, by the end, too human-sounding for comfort. Although it didn’t revert its shape, Therion couldn’t shake the feeling that the human form hadn’t been a lie, that this thing had actually been human once. The idea was chilling. As they watched, the same dark energy that had heralded the transformation swept over the body, disintegrating it.
Nothing was left behind. Not even a trace.