Viewpoint

The morning came with a sharp pain; the bed’s headboard dug itself into Taliesin’s back. Last night he gave up finding a comfortable position in the chair, and decided to move to the edge of the bed. But while he stayed upright in his slumber, Leiren had shifted over and laid her head on his thigh. She faced the footboard and curled herself into the blanket.

He scooted more into the bed, being meticulous with his shifting, careful not to disturb her.

A waking breath left Leiren despite Taliesin’s attempts to keep her undisturbed. Her eyes snapped open, her arm slipped to her side and she pulled up a serrated blade. Once her eyes focused, she dropped the blade and slumped back down.

“It was uncomfortable in the chair,” Taliesin said.

She replied with more confused blinks, followed by a sharp inhale. “I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I don’t know why I kept you. I hope I didn’t say anything—”

“You didn’t.”

Sluggishly, she rolled over on her back and rested her head back on him. She stared at him. “… I don’t believe you.”

“I think some mumblings about how intelligent I am—”

“Mhm,”

“—and how you’re *deeply *attracted to smart people.”

“Sounds like me.” She shook her head with a smile, then closed her eyes as she relaxed into him. “I don’t think I’d say that out loud.” Her lips sucked in as she tried to hide her smile. “So that’s it? No more trying to fix the blight?”

He started to brush his hands through her hair. “That’s it, Lei.” His head fell back against the wall behind the headboard. “… I’m tired,” he sighed.

“Shame.”

Taliesin sat up. “Shame?”

“I always wanted to be a princess.” She closed her eyes again.

“You’ll need a prince.”

“You know what I mean,” she said.

He looked down, discovering that she kept her gaze on him. “What do you mean, then…?”

She swallowed down her words, and nibbled her bottom lip. “I’m done being scared. I’m done hiding in forests. I want— I just— I just— you.”

Taliesin chuckled. “You already have me.”

“Stop messing around Tally, I mean it.”

“I’m not messing around,” Taliesin said, calming himself.

She turned again on the bed until she was upright. “So, you actually mean it? Enough of the—the traveling? That’s it… just us?”

He traced her wrist with his hand, brushing against a scar and knowing better than to bring up the branding. His fingers continued to cradle Leiren’s hand. “The Hamsarian blight will reach here too, eventually, we’re all going to starve, likely get sick, and likey—”

“Likely.” She squeezed back.

“You’re fine with it?”

She took his other hand and placed it on her side. “We both know, that’s not the reason we’re running.”

Before he could respond, she pivoted her leg so that she could settle on top of him.

He started, “I think—” she leaned in, touching his nose with hers, “—we should—” her lips washed away his thoughts, and the words that were meant to be said were stolen with the same gentle touch.

His arm wrapped from her hip to around her back and pulled her in. For a moment, their lips broke away, as they shared a look.

A knock rattled the door. Leiren shoved her hand under the covers.

“Come on lovebirds!” Varith yelled, as if they were still sleeping. “If you guys are awake—make sure to keep some energy for the rest of the day!” His giggle filtered through the door.

The door swung open. “I hope I’m interr— oh—” his eyes popped, his lips curling into a grin. “It appears I am.” He made a lazy attempt to cover his giggle fit.

“Why didn’t you try my door first?” Taliesin sighed.

“I did.”

Leiren pulled her hand out of the sheets, then shifted back into her original position beside Taliesin, “I didn’t hear a knock.”

“Who says I knocked?”

Taliesin sighed, “what do you need?”

“I talked to Elias, amongst other things. I was able to get a reputable route to Shone. Apparently, the Runners have a tunnel that goes right into the border.”

“We’re gonna stay,” Taliesin said, waving his hand to shake off the notion.

Varith pressed his hands together. “Thank Bara.”

“I didn’t know you prayed,” Leiren said.

“I did, last night at least. I was on my knees and everythin—”

“Just get out,” Leiren said.

He started towards the door. “What do we do now then?”

“Why don’t we see if anyone needs a job done?” Taliesin said.

“You ever kill anyone, Steelbrother?” One of the waypoint passengers grabbed at Rex’s shoulder. The skin underneath his tattoo stung when he did. The passenger’s hand squeezed the tattoo when he noticed Rex wincing. The Steelbrite had introduced himself as Gil earlier, but Rex assumed it was a fake name.

“Of course he hasn’t.” The other passenger called herself Nar. She had spent the past few hours sharpening her dagger. “Stop tormenting him.” Her Steelbrite tattoo carried a dozen marks underneath it. “He’s just a poor kid,” she mumbled.

The three of them traveled by waypoints. Most of the coachmen carried Steelbrite tattoos and old tales of their contracts. Waypoint carriages varied in size, some of them with open tops, and others with comfy cabins. This one didn’t carry the open top. Rex enjoyed it that way—not knowing where they were going left him unsettled.

Gil squeezed his shoulder one last time before he let go.“He chose it, didn’t he?” His tattoo also carried a few dozen marks. “He chose this life.”

The three leaned forward as the carriage climbed up the road.

“We all did,” she sighed, “it’s not much of a choice really. What else is there in Neoreus?” She brought up the dagger to eye-level, inspecting the sharpness by rotating it around.

“What’s so wrong with it?” Rex squinted. “You two act like it’s terrible.”

“It’s usually not,” Nar answered. “The pay is good for mostly mundane tasks. Protect this, follow them, guard whatever, teach that…” She stopped to make sure Rex still kept his ear trained on her. “But this contract is to kill.”

“They’re just bandits,” he argued.

Gil chuckled. “He’s got the right mind.”

“That’s right…” Nar placed the dagger in a leather sleeve and faced the horizon. “Let’s not think too much on it. It’s just another job.”

“What?” Rex brought his arms up, as if nobody let him in on the inside joke. “They do awful things, I’m glad that at least I’m able to get rid of it, and get paid while doing it for that matter.”

Gil’s chuckle grew into a laugh. “Them. You mean, get rid of them.”

“That’s what I sai—”

Nar interrupted. “It doesn’t matter. They don’t matter, Steelbrite. Stop talking about it. Think about the reward, that’s why we’re all here, isn’t it?”

Gil placed his hands on his hip and straightened his back. “No, he’s here to serve his duty as a Steelbrite,” he said.

“I’m trying to buy a house.” Rex corrected him, unable to ignore the mocking behavior. “For me and her.” He caressed the letters on his bracelet. “What’re you here for? I don’t understand why some Steelbrites take more than a few contracts.”

Nar replied with a solemn smile. “Debts. It’s not so glorious outside of battle. Nobody told me.”

The two looked at Gil waiting for his turn. He just rolled his eyes, and looked away. “We’re almost at Dunmouth.”

After a few minutes of silence, the road began to descend; wooden structures could be seen just beyond the forest trees.

Gil sighed, “I want to leave Corterra. There’s nothing for me here anymore. Once I’m done here, I’m buying a gryfalcon trip to a faraway country that can’t make out the words that come out of my mouth.”

Nar placed her hand on his back.

He shrugged. “But if I never get to leave this place, that’s fine too.”

The coachman turned his head to speak, “my stop is just right there, looks like I’m bringing someone back too.”

There was a small plateau protruding from the downhill slope. Another waypoint sat on it with a small sign: Dunmouth Waypoint.

A man leaned against the sign. He stood on one leg, and the other had a makeshift brace. The Steelbrite tattoo was hard to make out. A long tattoo marked the majority of his arm, but once the carriage neared, the tattoo revealed itself as individual contract marks. Almost as if they were tattooed in what little space was left available.

“Lyam!” Rex shouted, and pointed at his fresh Steelbrite marking.

Lyam nodded to acknowledge him, and glanced at the other passengers’ expressions. “What did Lysandra say about this contract?”

“She —uhm,” Rex collected his belongings like the others and jumped off.

“She doesn’t want you to do it, hm?” Rex tossed his ruck onto the carriage.

“No, she doesn’t, but she said she was fine with it.”

“Oh? She finally told you.” Lyam grabbed his wrist and inspected the bracelet. “Congrats, I remember when she started this bracelet.”

“Thanks, it was mutual.” Rex rubbed at his neck, daydreaming at the smile she gave when he left.

“Turn around Rex,” Lyam said.

“What?”

“I’ll take your spot on the contract, I’ll even give you the reward. My sister will cry for weeks if you die.”

“Then I won’t.”

“No matter how this contract ends, you will.”

Rex pointed at his braced leg. “You’re hurt, what good will you be?”

“I only need my sword, not my legs.”

Gil rested his hand on Lyam’s shoulder. “You’re wasting your breath, Steelbrother.” His eyes followed the trail of marks on his arm. “You might’ve forgotten your first, but I remember mine.”

Lyam sighed. “You better come back, at least.” He hoisted himself onto the carriage. “Eyes open.”

“Always,” Rex replied.

Nar placed her hand on Rex’s shoulder. “Ready?”

Rex rubbed the bracelet against his wrist again; the skin underneath was raw and started to burn. “Let’s just get this over with.”