The Scoundrel's Luck [Open]

[Emily]

The heavy tree cover that blanketed most of Ama Ancalen in darkness became less pronounced near the coast of the Storm Strait. Taking advantage of the city district, The Sprite's Respite famously boasted beautiful views of the beach from its southern and eastern rooms. Because of this, it was also able to offer something most buildings in the port city couldn't- sunlight. Plush bed-covers of rich blues and reds, elaborate stone and woodwork, and thick cloth rugs suited the discerning taste of classic elven nobility. The elves of Esenral were notorious for their dislike of using animal skins and furs for their materials, leading to creative synthetic weaves involving magic to craft.

A winding staircase connected the bottom floor of The Sprite's Respite, a large dining area and pub, with the second and third floors, entirely guest rooms. It circled a large, ancient tree that made up the central foundation of the inn. On the top floor, as far from the stairs as possible, Alok stood at the window of Elaoril's room. The sun hung low over the water in the distance, flooding the room with a dramatic, red-gold light. A gentle breeze coming off the water caused the shorter strands of the elf's hair to dance in front of his face, but he hardly seemed to notice it. He was taking notes in a small booklet, occasionally taking a moment to look out the window. His eyes saw nothing in the view outside, instead focusing on possibilities and details that were far out of view. After taking a moment, he turned toward the room, notorious in the city for featuring Ama Ancalen's most plush bed, almost too soft to comfortably sleep on. Elaoril was sprawled out on it, clothing and hair as wild as Alok's was calm. Her eyes were closed, her breathing was relaxed, but she was certainly awake.

Alok cleared his throat. "It seems the best we can hope for on foot is a week."

"Mhm," she replied, cracking her eyes open. She remained still, but her eyes traced the intricate woodwork patterns on the ceiling. Those patterns, along with the stonework on the walls, seemed to hold her interest whenever he wanted to talk business. At least until he said something that piqued her interest.

"But that's assuming the weather allows us to put in ideal distance every day. And that Odibrand is the type of client that will resist every tourist trap."

She laughed, propping herself up on her elbows to look across at her brother. "That sounds unlikely."

Alok gave just a wisp of a smile, taking the laugh as a victory. "As such, we should expect the trip to take between 10-12 days. We've prepared supplies surprisingly well, and I think our field rations will last that entire time without stretching them. Have you taken any extra precautions for the trip?"

"I think we should be mostly alright with the normal routine, but I bought a tome with some offensive spells, just in case. Fireballs, gusts of wind. You know, the usual."

"You distract them, and I patch us up when you inevitably fail?" He grinned, jotting down a few more notes in the booklet before placing the quill back into its inkpot and sitting the notebook open-faced on a table near the window. He pushed himself up onto the sill to sit before continuing. "He mentioned potentially bringing more people in. Think that's a good idea?"

"Sure, but I don't know anyone who's in the city."

"Me neither," he sighed. "It would have been useful if he'd bothered to let us know a week ago that nobody else had replied to the ad. If I'd been able to send a letter out on a ship then, Jonik and Beldroth would have come in from Sunhaven. Two support magic users aren't the best mercenary squad to hire on, even as confident as Odibrand seems to be. We need a swordsman or two."

"I feel there's no point in worrying about it," came Elaoril's reply as she sat up at the edge of her bed. "He's probably already blabbed about it across the entire city. The way I see it, we either get paid when the package reaches the capital, or he doesn't make it. If it's the latter, we're certainly not going to be killed, and we'll have been gifted a couple very nice rooms and free food for a fortnight. If it were up to you, we'd have been in the cheapest garbage inn in the city, eating hardtack and drinking water that had been sat aside for our baths."

Alok laughed, attempting to cover it with a hand. What she was saying was true; he was in charge of their finances on most trips. He tended to overcorrect for Elaoril's liberal spending habits. She'd have them living and eating here until they ran out of money if she were in charge. While they were generally good at their jobs, and incredibly good at surviving the various merc jobs that came up along the coast (whether or not their employer survived to pay them), most people weren't interested in a team of only a healer and an illusion mage. Jobs were hard to come by without a sword and shield across your back, or flurries of fire and lightning from each of your fingers.

He didn't know what to make of Odibrand, but the man had given them a job when prospects seemed thin. And while that by itself was enough to endear him to both of them, it was also enough to ignite Alok's suspicion. For someone with such confidence when it came to dangerous courier work, the human had been throwing money around quite frivolously during his time in the city. He'd come upon the twins' radar back in Sunspear long before they approached him about the job posted on the pub's merc board; he spent each night in the brothel, ate and drank the finest of everything. And yet he'd been so incredibly polite when they explained the situation and their expectations for the trip. If he brought anyone else on board... it would be hard for Alok to get a read on motivations. And the job seemed so simple as well. Just an escort from Ama Ancalen to Sylh Allanar, and a caveat to never look in his cargo?

He sighed and rubbed at his eyes with his palms. "Ah well, nothing to be done about it. Shall we go and get dinner?"

"I thought you'd never ask."