Private Tales Your Money or Your Life

[Lyria Killoran]

Lyria had no experience with any that came from Vel Anir. Anirians were not in great numbers coming to Alliria, but she had met a handful during large parties. Foreign dignitaries often were invited, but Lyria could not summon any sort of sympathy for the elf. Not that he shared this information looking for it.

She quirked a brow, "Yes." A look of confusion deepened on her expression. "You said we may have business in common. Have you finally realised that I was truthful all along?"

Lyria recalled how his face looked as if he had been assessing her when she told him that hours ago. Only those that knew of such a nature would wonder, but those in her society cared not for the reclusive and fabled creatures that spanned across Arethil.

Instead, she carefully plucked the small figurine from the tabletop. She surveyed the shapes, envisioned how it would look in the end. After a moment, she placed it back down in the space between them. "I came to talk. That is what you wish to do, is it not?"

The shrill notes playing from the flute made her scrunch her face, her hand moving towards a sheath in her leather vest. She palmed a knife, hidden within her armour. After a moment, she pulled her hand away, empty.

 

[Rob Yew]

"Yes..." his eye watched her hand move across her body, her form hidden by the leather vest, as if she were reaching for something before she decided otherwise. He frowned slightly, bandages shifting with the motion, wound stinging, "...talk. Don't kill our flautist. He's got other skills. I need him. Might let you take his index finger though."

Rob slammed his knife into the table, point first, and let go. The giant hunk of steel wobbled there. He snatched up the figurine she'd set back down and put it away.

The hostility from the morning had mostly worn off. Long as it wasn't one of his men, Rob didn't care much who she killed. And he'd had time to think about what she'd said. It all made sense, in a way. Besides, the Killoran wasn't like the Anirians he was used to dealing with. These Allirians didn't spit at you rather than talk with you, for one thing. And she was easy enough on the eye. When she wasn't shooting arrows past his head.

Rob poked at the hilt of the knife, making it wobble back and forth again.

"Your social circles aren't exactly my social circles..." oh this was going to hurt wasn't it, "But I'm sure you've got some rivals. Some noble competition. I think we can find a... beneficial arrangement," he grimaced. The words felt wrong in his mouth, but that didn't make them less true. "There's a Belgrathian locksmith traveling to Alliria next month. He performs a 50 year inspection on the Belgrathian safes of merchant families. So if I miss this chance... I won't get another one for 50 years. All I need is the carriage route he's supposed to take."

He gestured at the bartender, who seemed pissed off about the amount of ruckus going down, up until Rob flicked him a full silver. That got them two full flagons.

Rob took a long quaff of his flagon, then set it down slow.

"You understand what I'm asking?"

Lyria Killoran

 

[Lyria Killoran]

"Oh please, do not tell me you are going to continue being highwaymen." Lyria groaned as she pushed her ale towards him. "I do not drink on the job." She said simply.

For he was right. She had those that would like to see her fall, and had some brushes in the past where she had to go on the defensive. Ruan Dontae ran a tight ship, and was one of the many notorious crime organisations in Alliria. He always told her he had plans, ones that would see them all rise higher in power.

"Are you asking Lyria the noble daughter of House Killoran or are you asking the assassin version of me for help in getting this information for you?" She turned her gaze away, waving down one of the staff with a gentle wave and a smile that was more noble mask than the smiles she had shown him earlier.

"Hello sweetheart, may I be a bother and ask for something to eat? I am rather famished from my journey. I will even take bread and cheese!" Her face took on a polite and pleading face, as if she hated to ask this of the tavern staff. "Here, for your troubles."

Lyria offered two gold coins, and saw the man's eyes widen.

"I am sure I can get the cook to whip you up a hearty soup. For you and your... um, uh... frie— uh, companion?" He laughed nervously.

She tilted her head to the side, humming in thought. "I do not know." Her eyes flicked to him without turning her head to look at him. "What do you say, companion?" Her smile was a dare, hoping the term made him irritated by her.

 

[Rob Yew]

"Heh," the elf flashed a toothy sneer back at her, "That's right. Get us some soup, keep. We'll need it."

He made the knife wobble again with a flick, his sneer taking on a vicious tilt, "She's made so many promises about the things she'll do for me as her... companion."

"Uhh. Ok... Any extra cleaning of the room costs extra," grunted the innkeeper before making himself scarce fast.

Rob let out a wicked snicker, eye skipping over to see if she took the bait. She deserved that shit. He drained half the flagon and set it back down, then pushed hers back toward her, "Right. You don't drink. So fucking professional. Don't see what job you're on right now, but you do you, Blue-Eyes."

Rolling his eye, he traced his thumb over the rim of the flagon, "Anyway. Figured your noble connections would get you the information we need. And if those don't, then I guess the other side of you will."

Lyria Killoran

 

[Lyria Killoran]

Crude as he was, it did not make her blush nor did it make her disgusted. A fair few things had been brutalised out of her to seek companionship for the emotion of it all, but even physical attraction played its part when it came to Lyria. She snorted either way, shaking her head at him.

"Yes. My noble standing would help you get that information you need, but I have connections with someone that will now be taking up a role with the Allirian Bank, seeing as a new role opened up." She grinned, snatching his knife with ease from the table.

Her fingers played with the dangerous blade, all thoughtful and careful in the way she handled it. Sheer skill and steady hands allowed her to not slice her fingers. "I can get you this information you seek in three days, provided we return to Alliria in the next day. Allow me to sort out my business before returning back to my noble life." She waved his knife around, having control of it's weight as she feigned playing around with it. "How will you pay me? Will I get to keep this knife?" Her eyes delighted at the idea.

 

[Rob Yew]

His emerald eye watched with some fascination as her fingers toyed with the large knife, clearly no stranger to a blade. No. Pretty adept in fact. Good grip.

"I'm partial to it," he rasped, shrugging, "but you seem like you know your way around a good length of steel."

His lips twitched. Those blue eyes of hers shone with some eagerness. Saying no would put that spark out.

"Sure."

The knife was a good one, but a small price for what he was asking. All things considered.

"Your timetable works fine. Now..." he gulped down another bit of ale, then eyed her over the rim, "Guess that's our business."

She hadn't risen to his bait earlier. A shame.

Lyria Killoran

 

[Lyria Killoran]

Lyria sat up straighter in her seat, her smile growing with genuine cheerfulness as he relinquished his knife to her. "A fine price to pay, seeing it cut me earlier." And which the wound of such a thin slice was now faded to something faint. It had been healing, slowly, but surely it looked as if days had passed. The dark red line of the cut lightly scabbed over, still showing just where he had threatened her when they had first met.

"Oh? Done talking already?" She sheathed the knife, already having a home for it somewhere on her leather vest, but her eyes bore into him with intrigue. "Is that all? A small part for me, and then I am to hear of how it all goes down through the gossip of the city? Nay, Rob Yew. I wish to accompany you and your crew." Lyria did not move from her seat. She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms stubbornly. "I want a piece of the prize."

 

[Rob Yew]

"What, the whole time?"

Fuck.

Now he'd have to put up with her jibes.

His eye narrowed on her suddenly, looking between her throat and where she'd sheathed the knife. The cut was barely there, almost like it never existed. Hm.

"Alright then. I bet you do want a piece of it, hungry little jackal. The score should blow even your Killoran mind. But annoy me and I'll tie you up again. And this time I'll leave you on the side of the road."

He sniffed, producing a thinner, shorter, double-edged whittling knife from his belt and cleaning out the dirt from under a nail. "And I'll take my knife back too."

Why did she want that knife so bad anyway?

"What am I supposed to call you, Killoran?"

Lyria Killoran

 

[Lyria Killoran]

"No. Not the entire time, you elven oaf." Lyria scoffed. "I will name a time and place to exchange my information with you and that is when I will join." She narrowed her eyes to his own assessing stare of her. It always provided her with entertainment watching people notice things about her. Even more so when it came to the noble men taking in her build, how her muscles were always on display whenever she wore a dress to society parties.

They all knew her to be dangerous. At least her danger intrigued them, and made her sister look the more appealing.

"Tie me up all you like, I will find a way out of them. And as for your knife, you will need to win it off me." Lyria drummed her fingertips over her arm in thought. She contemplated on giving him a name to use for convenience, but some part of her wanted him to use her name. "Lyria Killoran. Use the name however you please, Rob Yew."

 

[Rob Yew]

"Lyria," he repeated, the word almost musical off his tongue. Sounded almost elvish. Rob couldn't decide if he hated that or not.

The soup arrived - apparently there'd been some more already made - and the innkeeper set two bowls in front of them.

Rob wouldn't say no to a meal, especially not when someone else was paying. He stirred it, lips pursing, then blew softly to cool a spoonful before he shoved it in his mouth and chewed slowly.

"Sure," he said, swallowing, "If you have the information. And if it turns out to be good. And if you didn't sell us out. Then yes. You can have a piece of the prize."

Dwarven forged safes were supposed to be the best, with the most complex of locks. Of course, it was a lot easier if you grabbed the dwarf with the skeleton key and replaced him with a dwarf of your own - which was the whole play.

Lyria Killoran

 

[Lyria Killoran]

"If you are so afraid of me taking the time to betray you... then perhaps I can offer you a pact?"

Did he suspect part of her heritage? Would the way she phrased the offer make him suspicious of her or had he not figured it out yet? It was a quarter of her bloodline, and could be smelled upon her should one with a nose be able to scent it.

Lyria leaned forward, offering a hand for him to shake. "I, Lyria Killoran, promise that I speak truth and will not betray anything concerning you, Rob Yew." She smiled.

 

[Rob Yew]

"Fuck me," he leaned back in his seat sharply.

She was fae. Part fae, at least. Maybe full. Impossible to say. How had he not put that together earlier? The inability to tell a lie, the way her neck healed so quickly, and now her use of the word pact. She meant it in the fae sense of the word, he was sure.

"You're serious."

His one good eye studied her anew, understanding now why her beauty held a certain... appeal. She was dangerous. Far more dangerous than any average assassin. Rob weighed whether or not he should accept the pact, then gave a mental shrug. Fuck it.

He took her hand, finding her fingers surprisingly strong. And soft.

"That it then? Pact made?" He had never made a pact with a fae before. Not something that came up often, even in the Falwood. Rob leaned forward a little bit, conspiratorial, and whispered, "Fae."

Lyria Killoran

 

[Lyria Killoran]

Her hand held his in place to keep him from slipping it out from their grasp. "Oh, good boy." She grinned, and a touch of ferality coated it. "You are clever and sharp."

Now that he figured it out, Lyria sliced her hand with her free one, letting blood spill until it coated both their fingers. "A pact made and bound." She declared before releasing his hand.

Lyria leaned back, pleased with how this little meeting had gone. She lifted her spoon and scooped some of the creamy soup, it's scent telling her it was chicken and vegetables inside. Happily, she ate delicately a few spoonfuls before dipping some bread into it.

 

[Rob Yew]

“You’d be surprised.”

Rob’s lips twitched at her words, some crooning aspect in them. Some invective of coaxing need. Primal and raw, awakening like a blood-soaked sunrise.

The elf sat very still.

Her pact seemed a fairly one sided pact, as far as pacts went. But from every interaction he’d ever had with a fae before Rob knew that their definitions of the “truth” and “betrayal” tended to be rather loose. Designed to lure in with the promise that yes of course, they’d only ever tell no lies. But leaving things out? Missing critical details? Crucial context? That’s how the fae played this game.

Rob eyed his hand as warm rivulets of her blood ran across it. Now that he knew she wasn’t fully human he found his prior disgust waning. Eye looking up to her, he held one of those sky-colored irises as his tongue snaked out and ran along the back of his finger, licking up the scarlet traces. The warm metallic taste coated his tongue. And not for the first time that day.

“Could think of a few other things that could be bound.”

Lyria Killoran

 

[Lyria Killoran]

Lyria crooked her lips into a smile.

"Like my wrists?" This time, she would humour him. He seemed to want to get a rise out of her, but Lyria heard it all before, and often with filthy detail of what some people wished to do with her. Some liked how golden her hair was, how she spoke with a touch more regality than those that dwelled in the unsavoury parts of the city. "You already tried that, Rob Yew, and to no affect."

Her smile held back a triumph. While she had no intentions of bedding him, she knew she could match him strike for strike.

"You are pretty enough to make me consider taking you to a room upstairs, but alas, I would only break your heart. It is probably best we leave us as merely allies, and no further. Cannot have you fall in love with me." If an order came to her to kill someone she knew, Lyria had been trained to set aside emotions and carry on the mission.

 

[Rob Yew]

“As if I’d ever love a half human,” Rob snorted, “Running away with your imagination, Lyria.”

Though the image of twisted hemp snarled tight around those slender wrists and a bedpost was not… unappealing.

“I meant your master, Dontae, on account of his betrayal of me.”

The elf smirked, “But good to know you think about me, little jackal.”

He took out the figurine and started whittling again, each stroke precise and smooth as the whittling knife moved beneath careful, deft fingers.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve a flautist to listen to.”

The flute squeaked over the hubbub and chaos of the tavern. Someone went tumbling to the floor and a fight broke out.

Lyria Killoran

 

[Lyria Killoran]

Lyria snorted, but noted the small nickname he had begun to use for her.

"I will take my leave then... to think some more of you." She stood, hands braced on the table as she leaned forward. "I will see you at the Sun God's little temple. You know, the one beside the Alley of Glass." An alley used as a marketplace that sold a great varying things sold in glass bottles.

She paused before righting herself and standing tall. Her hand went to that pocket again, and tossed up a small throwing knife into the air above him. "A trade." Lyria said simply.

Not a fair one, for his knife was large and her own small and nimble.

 

[Rob Yew]

Rob stopped whittling and picked up the throwing knife, examining it. When she left, a slight, crooked smile tugged at the unscarred side of the elf's mouth. For once, it was genuine.

"A fair trade," he muttered to himself.

* * *

Three days later, Rob stood in the Alley of Glass outside the Sun God's shrine. He'd traded the bandages for a hood, which he wore pulled low over his features. His wound might be healing bit by bit, but the sight of an elf with a gruesome war wound tended to attract more attention than Rob desired.

His crew was packed out in the Shallows. They didn't come into Alliria proper unless they had some business. Too risky. Too many of them were wanted men. Dontae might lift his pinky to aid a crew chief like Rob, but even that was a strong maybe. He wouldn't so much as give a twitch for the rest of them. So Rob came alone.

He'd not been idle the past few days. Oh, no. He confessed, he never could trust a fae. Methodically, he tracked down Lyria Killoran - the noble, not the assassin, after they'd arrived back in Alliria. Rich merchants did not exactly keep a low profile. A well placed copper or three led him to the right house and from there it was a simple matter of following her when she attended some gala the other day. He didn't know what the humans called them and he'd had to watch from a rooftop through an open window.

If she was going to sell them out, he wanted to know. Instead, he'd only had the chance to see her in a dress. Could hardly believe it was the same person who'd traded insults and daggers with him a few days ago. Now that he knew to look, he could see the fae influence in her features. Fierce and ethereal, something you could watch but never quite seize - like fire or mist. Maybe she'd seen him following her to and from the gala. Would she enjoy that, he wondered. Knowing he watched.

Yes.

She was a demented little devil.

He'd also watched her later that night. To ensure she didn't go to the guards in some last minute double cross. The rooftop shingled had been cold. And her window blinds had been barely closed.

Had she known all along and wanted him to see?

Hmph.

Rob chewed on a stalk of wheat and scratched at his healing scar, waiting for Lyria Killoran to show up like she'd promised.

 

[Lyria Killoran]

"Missed me?" She appeared out from the temple with a smug smile. There he was, waiting in the same fashion she had come to know him in. The way he held himself never changed, and that was how she began to notice someone watching her in the previous days since returning home. Telling him who she was had been an invitation for him to watch, to gather information, for none of it would answer any of his questions, truly. Her life was boring in comparison to her profession as an assassin.

As a noble daughter, she wore pretty dresses and danced with pretty men. Even at the parties and outings she went to, Lyria did not lift a drink to her lips ever.

All her work had been done in secret. Only on her way home late last night did her information find her, as she settled for sleep. A note had been slipped in the smallest of cracks in her window, and there she had sensed that Rob Yew had followed her home. Leaving her curtains open that small part had been deliberate. Let him watch her do nothing but sleep.

Even with his hood drawn over his face, she knew the sight of his lips. Chewing the straw was the biggest giveaway. Lyria motioned him to follow her, down the Alley of Glass. It stretched several blocks, and some stalls sold the exact same thing, but she had been here many time to know just where to look for what she needed.

"I need to do some shopping before we leave." She said. It was a busy day already, for the Alley of Glass was never empty. Cheap ale was the highest selling thing in this place, and there were a great number of drunks about. Many other bodies were simply navigating and trying to find stalls of interest. "You have your route, written and documented on a piece of parchment but I am not handing that over just yet."

 

[Rob Yew]

"What?" Rob snapped.

Despite his sharp tone he fell into step beside her as they began pushing through the press of bodies in the alley. Rob glared at a beggar who bumped into him, shoving the man aside with an elbow to keep pace with Lyria.

"You're delaying delivery of information for a shopping trip?"

Fucking ridiculous. She probably only did this to infuriate him. He swore, if it turned out that she was looking for some scented wax candle or other he would - just then a pair of drunks approached, with a look Rob knew only too well. There were some men in Arethil who you knew were the lowest of debris, not fit to keep company of what scurried out from under a fallen log when you picked it up. And these two were that sort.

"Ohh, now there's a pretty lass," one called.

"Y'er right, got a proper bust on her this one. C'mere and give us a kiss. You - oof."

The point of Rob's boot slammed up between the speaker's legs and Rob felt a satisfying give. In the impact. The speaker fell to the ground, making horrible retching noises before his vomit spewed across the cobble stones. The other drunk started to back away. Maybe it was the kick, or maybe it was the sight of Rob's grotesque scar, winding up half his face like a serpent of angry red and pink, but the man seemed to want no further part in this.

'Course, Lyria could have handled herself just fine, but Rob enjoyed breaking human balls when given the chance.

"You were saying?"

Lyria Killoran

 

[Lyria Killoran]

"You're delaying delivery of information for a shopping trip?"

She knew the smile she threw his way would only spite him, but his incredulity only made things fun. There was something witty on the tip of her tongue, until voices could be heard. Lyria ignored most in this area, too used to attention due to her finely tailored and fashionable attire.

Lyria watched Rob step forward and deliver a kick. Whereas she blinked and stsred blankly, betraying no true reaction, others around them gave the two a wide berth. When he looked back at her, Face half obscured as his hood stayed still, she quirked her brows at him. Nothing was said, but she found it strange for him to have done something in her service. Saying nothing, she shrugged and motioned that they continue down the alley. Lyria clicked her tongue when the drunk man wheezed on the ground, and she made sure to steer clear of his sick as she stepped over him without another glance.

She took point, moving and weaving past the crowd quickly, that no other person seemed to pay attention to her. If they did, she was gone and moving by the time she wanted a second glance.

Lyria came to stop by a stall that had seemingly empty phials and vials, all resting within a boxed slot. The craftsmanship of the glass was beautiful, looking like crystal. The stall minder stared her down. Lyria smiled. They knew each other. His violet eyes shift to Rob and his frown deepened. "Who the fuck is he?"

"My guard dog, apparently. Do not mind him." Lyria rifled through the wares carefully, leaving Rob's introduction to himself if he wished. "Have you got the jasmine oil?" She plucked out a vial that tucked nicely in her hand, tested it's weight, and handed it back to the stall owner.

"Aye." Again he stared at Rob.

Lyria let out a small exasperated sigh. "He is an acquaintance. The one I told you about." Tavahn worked for a rich perfume oil merchant since he was a boy. Learned all he could about the trade before falling for a woman that made glass bottles. Ever since Lyria heard his tale, she made sure to support their business. Tavahn usually did the selling, taking any special request orders, and often without a smile. Lyria did not need a smile, for his perfume oils were better than what she could find in the wealthier parts of the city.

Tavahn sized Rob up once more before looking to Lyria. "20 gold pieces."

She chuckled, and relinquished the bottle into his awaiting hand. Lyria turned to Rob. "Last thing I needed before we head off to do whatever it is you are planning. Here." She gave him one page of two of the parchment she had with all the information. "You can get the rest when the time comes."

 

[Rob Yew]

Rob glanced at the page as he took it, scowling the more he roved over it.

"What? When the time comes? We need precision here, Lyria. Details matter or my crew die. You're going to hold out on me 'cause you're scared of a double cross, that it?"

A shame, really, this would foil his double cross.

"Should I go back there and chop off that stall owner's fingers until you give me the other scrap? He seemed to take a real fancy to you," Rob's lips twisted insidiously. "Maybe I pluck out his pretty little purple eyes. I could use a spare, you know."

Ah but he'd made that joke before and she misliked it if he recalled. Good. Fuck her, holding out on his information.

"The hells you need jasmine oil for anyway? Going to spritz someone to death?"

Lyria Killoran