Commerce Emperor - Chapter 8: Hero Tour

As it turned out, Eris had just completed her hero tour.

With the Blight contained for now, we heroes decided to enjoy a hard-won drink after a job well done. Marika and I invited our fellow heroes—and Alaire—to our home. The forge was large enough to house all of us, so Marika built a table and chairs from scraps and called it a day.

My ‘housemate’ hadn’t wasted any time while I was working at the castle. Marika had strengthened the old walls with her power by fitting stones inside them and set up a workbench near the anvil where her tools were neatly arrayed. Moreover, a shelf near the hearth displayed the result of her recent experiments with her power: a spoon made of seashells harvested from the docks, a pair of wooden gauntlets, and a bizarre mishmashed sculpture of tableware. It seemed the more stuff Marika combined, the less practical the shape.

“So you’ve visited every last one of us?” I asked as I poured Eris a cup of wine. Raiding the Gilded Wolf let us gather a large treasure trove of confiscated goods. “Great classes and vassals alike?”

“The Artisan and the Alchemist were the last on my list.” Eris all but snatched the wine cup from my hand. “I figured I should save them for last, since they’re the Merchant’s vassals.”

“Aww, you wanted to see me again?” I teased her. “The feeling is mutual, Eris.”

“Careful, you might develop a little crush on me at this rate…” Eris playfully winked at me. She immediately noticed Alaire’s gaze darting between her and I. “My my, Lady Brynslow, what are you imagining?”

“That our Merchant thinks with his cock first and his brain second.” Alaire squinted at me in judgment. “Don’t you have a type? That would spare most women from your unwelcome attention.”

“I do not have a type, I have an open door policy.” I offered a drink to both Colmar and Soraseo. Both refused, the former more politely than the latter. Soraseo’s helmet sat on the table, its owner’s face trapped in a deep melancholy.

Now that’s just depressing, I thought when I watched her. I need to take Belgoroth’s words off her mind.

“In fact, I believe having a type is positively criminal,” I said after sitting next to Soraseo. “Half the world is made of the opposite sex. If you restrict yourself to a narrow category, you close yourself off to countless good surprises.”

“An interesting opinion,” Colmar commented.

“Do you have a type?” I asked him. Somehow Colmar didn’t strike me as a romantic person.

“I have never been interested in men or women,” the Alchemist replied. “I understand that others may find happiness in love, but it is simply not for me.”

“I agree with Robin, though mostly because most don’t understand what makes them happy in the first place.” Eris chuckled. “See, Lady Brynslow? Robin is the perfect Merchant because he’s always looking for new opportunities.”

Alaire rolled her eyes. “The world might be a better place if he behaved properly.”

“I wouldn’t be so judgmental if I were you, Alaire.” I pointed at her beautiful braid with a smirk. “You still owe me my due from our wager.”

Alaire blushed in embarrassment, doubly so when Eris joined in on the fun. “Oh?” The Wanderer put a finger on her lips. “Do tell.”

“I admit, I am curious too,” Marika said as she sipped her cup. I didn’t expect her to be a heavy drinker, but she had been the first to go for the bottle. I suspected the night’s events shook her more than she let on.

“I am a woman of my word.” Alaire looked away, her cheeks now redder than a Fire Island tomato. She was kind of cute when she acted childish. “But I… I will deliver on it in my own time.”

“I understand, you want to do it in a private place,” I teased her, knowing perfectly well how it would sound. “Don’t worry, it’ll be our little secret.”

“Come on Robin, you can’t tease a gal like that in front of me and not follow through.” Eris immediately started hounding Alaire. “Lady Brynslow, confess your sins. What terrible crime are you expected to commit?”

Abandoning Alaire to my favorite nun’s dogged attention, I turned to Soraseo. The Monk hadn’t spoken a word since we left the Gilded Wolf. She could use a distraction.

“Could you show me how to play your instrument?” I asked her. “This gathering could use a song.”

“My biwa?” My question drew Soraseo out of her sullen state. “I… I do not have another, Lord Merchant.”

“Come on, call me Robin, Soraseo. We’ve fought a demon together, we can skip formalities.” I turned to Marika. “Mind lending us a hand?”

A few minutes later, Marika managed to craft a pretty good replica of Soraseo’s instrument from wood scraps and ropes. I noticed that her Artisan power worked better when she had an idea of the fusion’s final result. Soraseo gave me a strange, flat curved sheet of wood to strum the strings. A plectrum she called it.

“The music comes from the mind, but the fingers play it on time,” Soraseo explained. She grabbed her own biwa, her fingers moving the plectrum with the same grace as her sword along the instrument’s length. “Like a sword, you must draw when you must, not when you can.”

“Why do you not buy the skill directly, Robin?” Colmar asked as I pinched the strings. “It would be faster.”

Because this performance is for Soraseo’s sake, not mine. Besides, she would probably ask to buy her knowledge back immediately.

“There is a certain pleasure in learning things the hard way,” I replied while testing my own plectrum. “I can’t develop my own style if I’m coasting on somebody else’s achievements.”

Soraseo began playing a sorrowful tune. I followed her lead long enough to get the hang of the instrument, but I quickly realized a tragic song didn’t fit my taste. I started testing more joyful tones. I liked them. “How about…” I muttered to myself, pinching strings with one hand and using the plectrum with the other. “This?”

Then I played aggressively.

Whereas Soraseo was the calm and sorrowful moon, I was the raging storm, the wild beast, the fury, and the force! My powerful tunes drowned out my teacher’s under their mighty echoes, much to her dismay. “Robin,” she scolded me. “The biwa is a gentle instrument!”

“Doesn’t sound like it,” I replied. My audience’s interest encouraged me to continue. Even Beni, who had been asleep upstairs, descended from our apartments above the forge to listen. “How about you try matching my pace?”

Soraseo appeared almost appalled by my suggestion, but eventually conceded. Her mark let her match my tempo quickly, and as her music moved from sorrowful to wild and joyful, her frown slowly started to fade away.

“You’re a natural at this, Robin,” Eris mused.

“Am I better than the Bard?” I asked half-jokingly.

“Well, Neferoa can sing, so she has the edge so far.” Eris mischievously covered her mouth. “Oops. I know she tells everyone she meets that she’s the Bard, but I’m not supposed to share that.”

“Neferoa?” I repeated. I’d heard the name back in the Riverland Federation. “The so-called pirate queen from the Fire Islands?”

“I thought it was just a rumor,” Marika said. Her son hopped on her lap to better listen to the musical performance.

“It isn’t. She is indeed the new Bard.” Eris played with her cup. “Neferoa wages a personal war against Iremian colonists occupying the Fire Islands.”

I had a very important question to ask. “Is it true she abducts men into her harem?”

“Robin!” Marika scolded me and covered Beni’s ears. “There’s a child in the room!”

“I wouldn’t call it a harem,” Eris replied, completely ignoring the poor mother’s remark. “More like she has a man and a woman in every port. She loves them and leaves them. Typical Bard behavior.”

A pity the Fire Islands were half a world away. I would have loved to meet Neferoa in the flesh.

I gave a sideway glance to Soraseo as we carried on with our duo song. Her lips stretched into a smile at the funny tunes, which I considered a victory. She even stopped briefly to sip from a wine cup.

Soraseo only came to life when she played music or fought in battle. I had seen her come alive in the Gilded Wolf, and crushed with disappointment when Fenrivos proved unable to offer her a decent challenge. The clash of steel kept her blood pumping. I had a plan that would satisfy her passion, but it could wait until after our performance.

“If you’ve visited all the heroes, you must have met Roland then,” Alaire said with a smirk. “What’s your opinion on our Knight prince?”

“He’s quite the handsome boy, though a bit too young and naïve for my tastes.” Eris chuckled at Alaire’s shocked expression. “Don’t be so prudish. One can look at the menu without ordering anything.”

“I’m beginning to see why you and Robin get along so well,” Alaire replied dryly.

Colmar, the only one who hadn’t drunk anything so far, remained all business. “The Fatebinder asked you to visit us all, did she not?” he asked Eris, to which she nodded. “So what will you do now? Has she given you another task?”

“I’ll report my findings to Lady Alexios, and deliver to her the Devil Coin that you collected.” Eris crossed her legs. “Afterwards, I think Lady Alexios will decide how to best support the heroes’ individual efforts. We are spread too far apart to form a conclave, and some of us serve opposing nations. The Priest alone will be a colossal headache for the Arcane Abbey.”

“How so?” I asked, suddenly curious.

Eris appeared torn between utter amusement and consternation. “She’s a reformist.”

My fingers froze on my biwa, much to Soraseo’s confusion; as the only one from a land where the Arcane Abbey held little sway, she was the only one around the table who hadn’t fallen into shocked silence.

“The Priest? A reformist?” Alaire looked utterly in denial. “Is that a joke?”

“You could call it that,” Eris replied with a chuckle. “One played on the Arcane Abbey.”

I agreed. The Fatebinder, who selected the heroes, led the Arcane Abbey. To have the Priest—the hero closest to the artifacts—oppose the orthodoxy on religious grounds would rock the institution to its very foundations. I struggled to imagine which side the goddess would pick.

“It… it won’t start a holy war of some kind, right?” Marika kept one hand on her son’s shoulder and another on her cup; she clearly struggled against the urge to drown her worries. “I don’t think we can spare one right now.”

“There’s trouble brewing everywhere, Marika my dear,” Eris replied with a shrug. “There have never been so many Devil Coins in circulation at a given time before, which means the Demon Ancestors are actively recruiting new servants. I suspect their involvement in the Irem-Fire Islands conflict and a few others across the continent.”

“The Knots are everywhere,” I muttered Fenrivos’ words. “Why do they call us ‘false heroes’?”

“Because demons lie,” Soraseo replied gruffly. “That’s what they do.”

“But Belgoroth showed us a mark on his hand,” I insisted. “A sword of fire.”

“A mark? Strange.” Eris stroked her chin, her gaze hardening. “I will refer this to the Fatebinder. Lady Alexios is the true expert on everything related to heroes.”

Her answer annoyed Colmar. “Is the Fatebinder withholding information from us?” His tone remained calm, but he did not hide his skepticism. “How can we fight a threat to the best of our abilities if we do not completely understand it?”

Eris shrugged. “You have seen what happened to that tavern. The Blight you’ve contained is but a taste of what awaits our world if the Demon Ancestors have their way.”

“You are evading the subject,” Colmar pointed out. “I understand that demons will spread death and destruction, but the more we know about them, the easier our task.”

“You are quite wrong, Colmar.” Eris sipped from her cup. “The less people are aware of the Demon Ancestors’ secrets and full capabilities, the weaker they become.”

Her words confused me, but Marika appeared to grasp their meanings. “A Blight…” she muttered. “They function like the Blights?”

“In a way.” Eris nodded sharply. “Robin is correct to intuit a link between the heroes’ marks and the Demon Ancestors, for both work similarly. They both draw essence from wishes and prayers directed at them.”

I remembered the times my mark glowed, infusing me with power and protecting my mind from the berserk flame’s corruption. I suddenly realized those had been essence infusions. “Wait, wait,” I said while examining my mark. “Are you saying I am only the Merchant because people believe the class exists?”

Eris laughed at me as if I were an idiot. “No, of course not. The classes are a gift from the goddess herself. They function independently from mankind’s thoughts and desires.” She grinned ear to ear. “However, the more people believe that the heroes will save them, the more essence the marks can draw from in a pinch to receive an extra boost.”

“But so can the demons,” Soraseo guessed.

“Exactly,” Eris confirmed. “Belgoroth would remain dangerous even if everyone on Pangeal were to forget his existence, but his power has become intrinsically linked to the concepts of wrath, vengeance, and fury over time. Belgoroth’s cult works so hard to spread hate and misery because they fuel his berserk flame. Sharing his true name around also unwittingly directs essence his way.”

In short, the more cultists spread evil in the Demon Ancestors’ name, the more essence they redirected towards their masters, who could then use the extra power to pull stunts like fueling a Blight in the middle of a city.

“So that’s why only inquisitors are allowed to learn Belgoroth’s name,” Marika whispered to herself. “If it becomes widespread, cultists will have an easier time channeling essence towards him.”

Colmar remained unconvinced. “That does not explain why the Arcane Abbey simply didn’t erase the Demon Ancestors from history, if only to weaken them.”

“The Demon Ancestors cannot be slain permanently, or at least not through any way available to the heroes who originally sealed them,” Eris explained. “In the difficult times that followed the Sunderwar, the Arcane Abbey tried many things to keep the Demon Ancestors permanently entombed. After a few experiments, the first Fatebinder and her successors found a novel solution: seals that would strengthen the more mankind loathed and feared its prisoners.”

“So that’s what you meant back then,” I whispered to myself upon reminiscing about my first meeting with Eris. “The Demon Ancestors escaped because mankind has forgotten why they should fear them.”

By vilifying the Demon Ancestors as nameless evils to be feared and fought, the Arcane Abbey reduced the flow of essence directed their way while strengthening the seals binding them and the heroes meant to oppose them. Quite clever.

Eris nodded sharply. “When everyone on Pangeal believed that the Demon Ancestors were a hateful evil firmly contained by the first heroes, it became true for seven hundred years. Unfortunately, so much time has passed since the Sunderwar that many forgot the threat the Demon Ancestors represent. It reduced the essence they could draw from–”

“But it also weakened their prisons,” Marika guessed, her eyebrows furrowing. “Enough that they could break out on their own.”

Alaire hung back in her chair. “That must be why Belgoroth’s servants are pulling these stunts. They’re trying to return their hate-starved master to full strength.”

“I remain skeptical,” Colmar said. “Why won’t the Fatebinder tell us heroes everything? We would not share confidential information.”

“I’m not sure all heroes would have that restraint,” Eris admitted. “I will speak with Lady Alexios, but I doubt she will listen. She already informed me that she would only tell me as much as required to fulfill my obligations as a hero, and no more.”

“I agree with Colmar,” I said. Reducing the spread of information on the Demon Ancestors made sense when one considered the essential questions, but something felt fishy about that setup. “What part of understanding our enemies would make it difficult for us to fight them?”

“I don’t know.” Eris set her empty cup aside. “I can assure you that the Fatebinder has your best interests and those of mankind at heart. If Lady Alexios refuses to share certain secrets, she must have her reasons. You’ve seen what kind of evil we’re fighting against.”

“Demons will make a Blight out of the world,” Soraseo agreed. She cared more about fighting than discovering the truth.

“I do not question the Fatebinder’s good intentions, only her judgment,” Colmar replied with his arms crossed. “Is there no way to convince her to open up?”

“You could travel to Mount Erebia to make your case, my dear Colmar; if you can survive the ascent.” Eris winked at me. “Although… If we combined our charms, Robin, mayhaps we could mollify Lady Alexios’ cold dead heart.”

“I’ve too much work to do here,” I replied with a shrug. “That Blight won’t die on its own.”

“Could Lady Alexios help us with it?” Alaire asked. “If the Arcane Abbey sent more exorcists to assist Lady Marika–”

“I will see what strings I can pull,” Eris promised before gently stroking Alaire’s cheek. “But you have to tell me what you and Robin wagered first.”

“Isn’t that bribery?” I teased her while Alaire blushed once again.

“The goddess helps those who help themselves,” Eris quipped. “Or something like that.”

Already half-asleep, Beni let out a heavy yawn. Marika scratched his hair gently. “It’s time to go back to bed, my little prince.” When her son looked up at her, Marika let out a sigh. “You want another bedtime story? Beni, I’m tired…”

“Oh, let me help,” Eris proposed with a mischievous smile. “I may not look like it, but I’m a master storyteller. I’ve spun a thousand tales for twice as many children over the years.”

Marika grinned. “I wouldn’t mind some help.”

“Have you ever heard of the Lion-Knight?” Eris asked Beni with a gentle smile. When he shook his head, she whispered to him a bedtime story with a gentle voice. “There was once a lonesome knight, stronger than any man and braver than a lion. He was beloved and admired by all for his good deeds; most of all by the princess of the realm, who wished to marry him. Alas, the knight’s only love was duty, and no woman could compare…”

Beni fell asleep within minutes, much to Marika’s relief. While she went upstairs to put her son back in his room, the rest of us decided to each go our own way. Alaire returned to the castle on her pegasus’ back and agreed to meet with me tomorrow at dawn to both deal with tonight’s fallout and the city’s economic development. Colmar excused himself and returned to the city’s hospital to treat our wounded. And Soraseo decided to patrol around the Gilded Wolf to confirm our security perimeter would keep its evil contained.

“I will hunt monsters too,” Soraseo said on the house’s threshold. “A Blight is a snake nest. You must smash the eggs before they hatch.”

A wise idea, though I could tell she mostly wanted to vent her nerves on whatever creatures would cross her paths. I doubted she would encounter any monster so early into the Blight’s development, but it didn’t hurt to check.

“Well, we will set up a bed for you upstairs when you come back,” I replied. “Would you like to train together tomorrow, Soraseo?”

“Train, Robin?” My proposal appealed to her as much as my music. “How so?”

“Your power lets you copy physical movements, so if you sell your fighting knowledge to someone, you can quickly recover it,” I pointed out. “It would help train more guards to contain the Blight. Besides, while I possess skills, tonight’s brawl showed me I need practical experience too.”

“Not just experience,” Soraseo said sharply. “You need better tools. Your needle can skewer a fish, but it won’t cut a dragon’s head.”

“It could, if you infuse it with essence,” Eris pointed out. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked our dear Marika for advice on the subject. She’s a weapon exorcist. Her job revolves around manipulating the essence of blades like yours.”

“We haven’t had the time to explore that option yet,” I admitted. “I’ll find it.”

“I have the happiness to teach you, Robin,” Soraseo replied. “I will have to leave soon, however.”

She still intended to travel to the Deadgate as soon as she received the authorization. A shame. I hoped a few days of training would at least shake her mind off the heartbreak Belgoroth’s words sent her spiraling into. “Then let’s make use of what little time we have.”

Soraseo bade us goodbye with a respectful bow and then left for the Gilded Wolf. Eris watched her walk away with a thoughtful look. “You know, Robin,” she said once we were alone. “Her red armor reminds me of rumors I heard from the Shinkoku. Of a red warrior undefeated in battle. The Blood Blossom, travelers called them.”

“You think it’s Soraseo?” If so, I could guess how she earned that nickname. Marika had to exorcise her sword from all the blood it shed.

“I wonder.” Eris scratched her cheek. “The Blood Blossom was banished from the Shinkoku, or so I’ve heard.”

“Banished?” I frowned. “For what?”

“I don’t know,” Eris admitted. “But the Shinkoku worships strength. She must have committed a terrible crime for its citizens to turn their back on her.”

Wallow in your sins, Mother-Killer.

Soraseo intended to risk her life to apologize to a dead person. I was starting to see the full, ugly picture. Others would have condemned Soraseo for her crime, but she had been a strong ally so far; one willing to challenge a demon head on to save strangers, even after she obtained the letter she desperately sought. Her life story sounded… complicated to say the least.

“Anyway, I’ll take my leave now.” Eris blew me a kiss from afar. “I’ll return soon, I swear.”

“I could take you on a date when you return,” I teased her. “I own this city now. I could show you the sights.”

“Mayhaps,” she teased me back with a playful grin. “You’re fun, Robin, but don’t expect to tie down the Wanderer.”

“Still a better pick than the Assassin,” I mused before crossing my arms. “Who are they anyway? Did they truly massacre Ermeline’s nobility?”

“Now now, do you take me for a gossip, Robin? How would you react if I shared your name with every hero under the sun?” Eris put a hand on her waist. “A few heroes like Neferoa seek to share word of their deeds, because they bask in the sunlight and wish to push an agenda. Others thrive in the shadows. The Assassin works best when no one sees them coming.”

“Fair point,” I replied with a shrug. “I was just curious.”

“But don’t torture yourself too much, Robin. I have the feeling that the Assassin will pay you a visit soon.”

I chuckled. “Sounds ominous.”

Eris’ grin widened further. “You asked for it, no?”

My smirk faded away. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“My poor Merchant.” Eris winked mischievously at me, as if I were the butt of a particularly funny joke. “See you soon, Robin. We’ll meet again.”

That teasing nun vanished in a puff of smoke without elaborating. I watched the wind carry the leftover fumes away with a single thought on my mind.

“I need a girlfriend,” I muttered to myself. “Celibacy is driving me mad.”

I returned inside to find Marika waiting for me, alongside the wine. “Beni fell asleep,” she said before offering me a cup. “Another one for the ride?”

“Sure.” I observed Marika’s hand as she poured the drinks. Her usually steady fingers trembled at the edge. Something bothered her. “At least Colmar left us his share.”

Marika scowled. “He doesn’t breathe.”

I mulled over her words a moment, before sitting and sipping my wine.

“I sat next to Colmar for a good hour and didn’t hear a single wheeze.” Marika stared at her reflection in the drink. “I’ve never seen him go to the bathroom, drink, or eat. What exactly is he hiding under his mask?”

“Maybe nothing,” I said. I’ve had my suspicions for a while now. “The mark appeared on his suit, which implies it’s part of his body somehow.”

Marika squinted at me. “You think he could be… what, a living suit?”

I wondered about the ‘living’ part, truthfully. “Mayhaps he will tell us in time.”

“Why are you so calm about it?”

“Because he works around the clock to treat the sick and wounded.” Colmar could only spare us an hour for the meeting before returning to his work, after all. Most impressively, he never charged anyone anything. “When I offered him a salary, he replied that he only accepted donations to fund his activities. Otherwise, he keeps nothing for himself.”

Marika raised an eyebrow. “You believe him?”

“Yes. The mark wouldn’t have chosen him otherwise.” My vision started to blur a bit from the wine. “I wish Snowdrift had an apothecary of his caliber when the Purple Plague struck.”

If so, my parents might still be alive.

Marika didn’t look convinced. “He could be hiding something bad,” she said while gripping her cup. “You never know.”

“I’m curious about Colmar’s true nature, but he is entitled to his privacy. His actions earned him my goodwill so far.” Perhaps it was the alcohol at work, but I couldn’t hold my tongue anymore. “Marika, what’s bothering you?”

Marika grabbed the heart-shaped wood pendant hanging from her neckline and studied it in sullen silence. When I approached to observe it more closely, I noticed the letters ‘W’ and ‘M’ stylishly carved on its surface.

“My husband sculpted this,” Marika explained, her voice low and filled with sorrow. “When he… when he left, I kept it. I should have thrown it away but… I couldn’t. I don’t understand why.”

I remained silent and let her vent. What she needed most now was a listening ear who wouldn’t judge her.

“Remember the axe Fenrivos tried to kill us with?” Marika asked me. I nodded. “My husband forged it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m certain. I would recognize his handiwork anywhere.” Marika’s scowl deepened into a look of utter hatred. “He serves Belgoroth now.”

I thought Marika was a widow, and from her expression I hadn’t missed the mark too much. Her husband was dead to her. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? You didn’t do anything. While… while he lied to me, cheated on me, attacked me, saddled me with mountains of debts, and…” Marika’s hand trembled as she gripped her necklace. “He… he…”

She’s afraid, I realized. “It’s okay, Marika.” I seized her hand into my own and squeezed it tightly. “He’s not here. No one can hurt you.”

Marika pulled back her hand immediately, as if startled. I immediately realized I had made a mistake. I was a touchy-feely kind of man, who liked to hug his friends when they felt down; but she didn’t feel that comfortable around me yet.

“You’re sweet, Robin.” Marika held her cup with two hands, gazing back at her reflection in the liquid. What she hoped to find in it escaped me. “But… it’s not for me that I worry.”

Beni. She feared for her son’s safety. I almost asked Marika if his father would truly hurt him, before quickly realizing that from her dour expression, he already had. I remembered how skittish Beni appeared on the boat, always looking over his shoulder as if expecting an ambush.

His own son… I struggled to hide my distaste for the man, whatever his name might be. I also pitied Marika. She had clearly gone through a lot.

“If any foe dares to approach within a league of Benicio, he’ll pay for it with his life,” I tried to reassure her. “You’re a hero in Archfrost’s employ. I’ll have guards keep an eye on Beni at all times.”

“I’m not sure it’ll be enough.” Marika sighed. “You’ve seen the demon in the tavern. I don’t think guards could do anything to stop one if it came after my son.”

“We killed that fiend, did we not?” I smiled at her. Smiles were like a good plague. The more you shared one, the stronger it became. “You aren’t on your own anymore. We’ve got your back.”

Marika listened with rapt attention. I could tell she wanted to believe in my words the way I did. After all, in every cynic lay a disappointed idealist.

“Robin, I… I’m sorry to ask you this, but…” Marika cleared her throat and chose her words carefully. “Do you think you could take Beni’s fears? His… his suffering?”

“I could buy his trauma, yes.” I could, but should I? “I’m not sure it would be healthy for him, however. I don’t know what traumatized him, but taking that away might be the spiritual equivalent of sawing off his arm. He won’t suffer from the pain, but it will leave a hole that he might never truly heal from either. I’d need further testing before we can consider it. For safety’s sake.”

From her crestfallen expression, Marika expected as much. “I just want to hear him speak to me again, Robin,” she admitted. “Beni has such a wonderful voice.”

“Give him time. Time heals all wounds.”

“I suppose it does.” Marika smiled sadly. “Sorry I rambled so much, Robin.”

“Everyone needs to vent once in a while.” Especially someone who had fought demons, both the human and inhuman kind. “If you listen to me complaining about my work, we’ll call it even.”

“Anytime, Robin.” Marika struggled to change the subject, but alcohol helped. “Are you and Eris… you know…”

“Sharing a toothbrush?” I quipped. “No, much to my displeasure.”

“Alaire then?”

My goddess, she was almost as much of a gossip as Eris when inebriated; she just hid it behind a veneer of maturity. “Nope.”

“I think you may have a shot,” Marika teased me. “If you stop acting so immature with her.”

“Never.” I simply had too much fun teasing our countess-to-be.

Marika scoffed before finishing her drink. “Your loss.”

Since it was getting late, we set the table aside and climbed upstairs. Our common living spaces lacked decoration and amenities–we just moved in after all–though I already had ideas on how to fill the rooms.

“Thanks for listening to me, Robin,” Marika said on her bedroom’s threshold. “I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. We’re friends, are we not?”

“We’re getting there,” Marika replied with a chuckle. “Good night, Robin.”

She closed her door on me, and I returned to my room: a sparse set of walls holding a single bed, with a set of windows giving an impeccable view of the port. I moved to it, trying to look in the Gilded Wolf’s direction.

According to Marika, the Blight would swallow Snowdrift in months unless stopped. Which meant that we had less than a year to turn this depressed den of poverty into a prosperous city which people actually wanted to live in. Not the best odds.

But I loved challenges.

“You’ll watch me douse your flame, Belgoroth,” I promised. “Just wait.”