Saga of Daie d'Malkin 8- First Date

We walk along the dusty road to Saradush. In the distance, it looms over the grassy plains around it, dotted with farmsteads and intersecting roads.
Raven walks alongside me. She doesn’t speak, but I can feel her presence. She’s standing so close I can feel the heat of her body. She’s standing so close I’m having trouble thinking straight.
“Darthiir, are you alright? You seem quiet.”
I’m distracted from my musing.
“Hmm?”
“You seem quiet, darthiir.”
“No, I’m fine.”
“What are you thinking about?”
Panic time, Daie, how do you answer that one? I think.
“Nothing” I hastily reply.
“Don’t lie to me, Daie. You’re frowning and biting your lip. You know you do that when you’re concentrating?”
I blush. “Yes, I do know that.”
“Don’t be ashamed. It looks good.”
My blush deepens.
“Ah, I’ve embarrassed you. I’ll keep quiet now.”
True to her word, she doesn’t speak to me for the rest of the journey, but I see her laughing quietly at me from the corner of my eye.

When we finally arrive at the gates of Saradush, she sighs, and pulls up her hood, hiding her face, and muttering something about blasted surfacers.
We manage to bluff her past the guards without lowering it, and enter the city proper. I notice her walking close to me, is if unconsciously trying to draw support from my presence, although I’m probably reading too much into it. I take a deep breath, feel around for her hand, and take it when I find it. Her hood swings round to face me, but her expression is lost in its shadow. I’m about to let go, fearful of offending her, but she squeezes my hand appreciatively, and carries on walking.
I breathe a sigh of relief, and mutter thanks to Selune.
She leads me through the slums, and up to a guarded gate. This guard is more persistent, and demands that she remove her hood. She tries to wrangle her way out of it, but no, he insists.
She curses, and removes it, revealing her dusky beauty to the afternoon sun.
I sigh as I watch her. Her petite nose, her pouting lips, her high cheekbones, and long white hair, contrasting against her dark skin.
The guard is gaping now. Seeing a Drow right before him was probably the last thing he expected to deal with today. I can see the expression on his face change, from astonishment to fear, and I know how soldiers react to fear. I step in front of Raven as he reaches for his sword, panicking, and smile, hiding my fear well.
“My friend, we don’t want any trouble. Can you just let us through?”
“A d-d-drow!” he exclaims, his hand still on his weapon, his face as pale as the clouds above.
“Yes, my friend, a Drow. But, she is with me. We mean the city no trouble. We simply wish to conduct our business.”
“But, she is a drow!”
I sigh. Obviously this one is ever so slightly dim. “Yes, and I am an elf. You are a human. Is there anyone in your family you dislike.”
The man nodded
“And you dislike being associated with this person?”
The man nodded again.
“Then, you are just like my friend here. She is not evil, like her fellow Drow. She is a good, kind person, and I will vouch for her. Is that enough?”
The man shook his head.
I opened my mouth to start again, but Raven roughly pushed me to one side.
She leant forward, and produced a pouch from inside her cloak. She dropped it into the man’s hand.
He immediately snapped to attention. “Right through this gate, my Lord and Lady.”
I am amazed as Raven takes my arm, and pulls me through the gate. Once we are through, and the portal closes, she turns, and steps up close to me, a curious look on her face.
“Why? Why did you try and reason with him?”
“He went for his weapon. I couldn’t let him draw it.”
“But surely you must have known I had a way of getting through the gate?”
I think about this. She’s right, I realise. She’s done this before, so they must have a method. But, when he reached for his sword, I had to do something.
She pushes me against the gate roughly, and I fear she is angry again. She reaches out, and her long, dark fingers curl around my ear, stroking it with her index digit. I shiver. She leans in close to my face, our noses touching.
“Thank you, abbil.” She whispers, looking away. Abbil? I’ve heard her call Minstra and Maron that. It means…friend?
She turns, and steps away.
“Such weakness.” I think I hear her whisper.
Raven walks away from me, quickly, pulling her hood back up.
I wonder what the hell just happened, and follow.

She finally stops outside a large building, grand and ornate. It has the look of a Town Hall, or Government building about it. Large stone stairs lead to its front door, which is guarded by a pair of men holding lethal-looking halberds.
I pant slightly as I stop next to her. I’ve had to almost run to keep up. She laughs, happily.
“Are you out of breath already, darthiir? Where is your stamina?”
She bounds up the stairs, and I groan as I follow her up. She glares at the guards, and they let her through. She’s removed her hood by this point, and they must reason that if she made it past the last guard, she must be alright to let through.
I follow her down corridors, up stairs, round corners, and through rooms, until we stop at an oak door. She knocks, and enters, before being invited to do so. I walk in after her, and close the door behind myself, standing next to it, my hands held before me.
It’s a small room, dominated by a large wooden desk, highly polished, but covered in paperwork. Behind it sits a ruddy man, with a large unruly beard, and long brown hair. Very little of his face can be seen between beard, hair and sideburns, but what little I can see is a flushed red, and two green eyes sparkle with a friendly manner. He is dressed in a heavy woollen tunic and breeches. To his left, a weapons rack stands against a wall, a well-used hammer hanging from it. To his right, a suit of plate mail is draped over an armour stand.
The man notices my gaze, and chuckles. “Even clerics retire, my boy.”
Raven sits in the leather chair before the desk, and leans back, comfortably.
“I hear there is a job going.” She is stating a fact, not asking a question.
“There are many.” The ex-cleric confirms. “There is an orc encampment near the city we want cleared. Only ten orcs, roughly, so no need for you to send your whole, formidable company, Miss d’Malkin. Also, there have been a few kidnaps; a local bandit gang is acting up again. Again, no need to send your whole company, thirty men should do it. Finally, we need an escort for a trade caravan to Riatavin.”
Raven leans forward “I’ll take all three.”
They began to discuss payment, and the human smiles superiorly, as he consistently refuses to pay the amount Raven demanded. It’s obvious the two have had dealings before. She is becoming more and more agitated, and eventually leaps to her feet, waving her arms hysterically as she shouts:
“Damn you, Aerith Longarm, will you not allow me to make a profit?”
I step forward, and catch hold of her flailing arm.
“Raven, calm down. Master Longarm?” I turn to the man behind the desk.
“Yes, young master..?”
“Vanya.”
“Master Vanya. Do you wish to add anything to our discussion?”
I settle in Raven’s vacated seat, and begin negotiations for the payment. Twenty years experience of begging money from my parents begins to pay off, and I manage to secure us enough money to break even, but not make a profit. I try for at least a quarter of an hour, but he will not budge. The ex-cleric is shrewd, that is certain.
The man stands, and offers me his hand. I shake it, securing the deal.
I beam over at Raven, who is leaning against the wall, her arms folded under her breasts, and a calculating look settled on her face.
She steps up next to me, and pats me on the shoulder.
“Where did you get this boy from?” asks Aerith Longarm.
“We recruited him a few ten-days ago.” Raven replies.
“A good catch. Can he use that?” he asks, pointing at the sword on my hip.
“Indeed. Very well.”
“Fighter?”
“Ranger Cleric.” I butt in.
“Is that so? Well, I have other work to attend to. Goodbye Master Vanya, do not come again, and steal the city of all its monies. Mistress d’Malkin, again my congratulations on your fine catch. Waukeen’s blessing on you both.”
“Selune’s on you.” I reply, and turn, bumping into Raven, who is looking at the Waukeenaur cleric, and blushing.
I look back at the man, who winks at me, then waves dismissively.
We leave the building, stepping out into the large square we stood in earlier.
“Well done, Daie.” Raven says over her shoulder. “You did well to get some extra money from him.”
“Thank you Raven.”
“Although, I noticed that you referred to Starshadow as ‘they’, and not ‘we’. Are you not one of us?”
“Well, having been with the company for such a sort time…” I trail off, embarrassed.
“Nonsense! You are one of us, Daie. You have fought with us, and have been paid. You are a Starshadow now.” She claps me on the shoulder. “Now, let us get back to camp.”
Time to face the music. “Raven?”
She turns her head to face me. Her cool eyes stare straight into mine, and I almost lose my courage.
“P-perhaps we could g-go to a tavern for an hour or so, have a few d-drinks?” I ask, stammering in my nervousness.
A smile spreads across her face. Is she going to laugh?
“Oh course, Daie Vanya. A good idea. The negotiations have made me thirsty. Lead on.”
She takes my arm, and I sigh with relief. I realise that she knows Saradush better than I, but she doesn’t point any taverns out to me. She just holds my arm, and lets me lead her round the more affluent section of the city, staying silent.
I decide that the next tavern I come across will be my bet. As we round a corner, I spot one. A sign hangs from its second storey, with a word printed on it ‘Mellonea’. Friends, in elvish. Thank Selune. A tavern with an elvish name. I must be able to purchase elverquisst there.
We enter, and find the tavern bright and airy. A few young dandies stand by the bar, sipping wine, and there are many tables scattered throughout the room. To one side, a stage sits against the wall, and a group of halflings are playing various instruments. One plays a yarting, another couple play flutes, and a final pair play violins as they stamp their feet in time to the beat. I smile. I’ve heard this kind of music before, and find myself strangely partial to it. Before the stage is an area set aside for dancing, and a few couples spin across it. I lead Raven over to a table, one separated from the rest by a low wall, with benches built into it, by the fire, in the corner. We slide onto the benches, and huddle over the small table. She sits opposite me, smiling as she watches me.
A waitress flounces over, and leans over the table, displaying an ample cleavage.
“Anything you desire, my lord?” She asks, winking at me.
I find myself unable to tear my eyes from Raven, though, and reply “Elverquisst,” without looking at her.
She harrumphs, and turns to Raven. “And for you, Mistress?”
“Elverquisst.” I reply, cutting off Raven.
The waitress harrumphs once again, and sashays back to the bar, fetching our order.
“How did you know what I wanted?” Raven asks, turning to look at me again. I realise that I’ve been staring at her for longer than is polite, and sharply sit up, cracking my head from the wall.
“I, ah! I am sorry. I simply thought it would be a good guess. I’ve seen you drinking wine at the camp, and thought an elven wine would please you.”
She smiles warmly. “You guessed correctly, my young friend.”
“I’m glad.” I reply, truthfully.

The buxom waitress returns with our order, practically drops it onto the table, and storms off.
Raven laughs “You’ve annoyed our waitress, Daie.”
“How?”
Raven laughs again, incredulously. “You turned her down, Daie. She was offering herself to you on a plate.”
“I didn’t notice.”
Now Raven’s jaw drops. “You didn’t notice? Did you not see her behaviour? Can you not see an obvious invitation? What distracted you so much that you failed t notice the wench drooling over you?”
I mutter “You,” but quietly, too quietly for her to hear.
She hands me my glass, and takes her own in her other hand. She raises it, saluting me, then drains it. I follow suit, and before I know it, two empty bottles sit on the table, and it is mid afternoon.
Raven is finishing her last glass of wine, and she seems happy. I drain my own glass, and they clink onto the table at the same time.
“Daie, shall we leave?”
“If you wish, Raven.”
We depart the tavern, and I flick a few copper coins at the waitress, who is too busy chatting up another customer to pay much attention to me.

As we leave, I look up. The bright sun is high in the sky, and the summer heat beats down on us.

She turns to me. “Thank you Daie, for the wine, and the company. I enjoyed myself immensely. Is there anything else to do before we return home, though?”
I think for a moment, and then nod.
“Yes, Mistress Raven. I wish to purchase a horse.”
She nods back at me, and takes me by the hand. A few minutes walk later, we arrive at a stable. It is in a reasonable state, and upon entry, I see that the horse certainly look healthy and strong. After an hour or so, we leave again, Raven again holding my hand, my other hand holding the reins of the pony I have just purchased.

For a hundred gold pieces, I think I did quite well. My own pay had not been enough, but I had thankfully brought some money from home before leaving. The pony is tall, and brown coloured, with a white patch covering the front of it’s face, a patch shaped oddly like a sword, with a long front, and two smaller extrusions under it’s eyes, looking like a dagger aimed at it’s mouth. Not surprisingly, the pony was being trained as a war horse, to become the mount of some young paladin, no doubt.

I bought a saddle and all the equestrian paraphernalia too, and am glad. All this walking over the last week has been giving me pains in my legs. I’m glad of finally being able to ride. I had ridden in Suldanessallar, and my father had intended for me to join the cavalry wing of the army, before I ran away to adventure.

Raven is giving me a curious look, her eyes occasionally wandering to include the horse too. “Are you satisfied yet, darthiir?”
I am. I’ve had a fantastic time. I managed to earn some money, finally got myself a horse of my own, and most importantly, managed to have a wonderful time in the tavern with Raven.
“Yes, Raven, I am. Shall we go?”
I hop onto the horse, and offer her a hand. She looks at it for a moment, before taking it. I pull her upwards as she jumps, and help her climb into the saddle, sorting her out as she gets her leg tucked in front of herself.
When she is finally sorted, she regards me with a look of utmost detachment, and calm, and says “I wondered why you bought a saddle that two could sit on.”
I smirk, awkwardly. “Many elves prefer to ride without a saddle, but I find that uncomfortable.” I shift the subject, expertly, even if I do say so myself.
She carefully wraps her arms around my waist, and rests her head against my back, almost submissively as we ride off, back to camp. As we ride, the sun sets, basking the countryside in a pink glow.
“Raven?”
“Yes, abbil?”
“Would you name my horse?”
“I would love to!” She thinks for a moment. “Cahallin.”
I’ve heard that word before. I think back to all the times I’ve heard her speak her native tongue. A ten-day ago, before dinner.
“Does that mean food?”
She sounds surprised “Why yes.”
“That’s hardly a suitable name for a steed.”
She thinks again.
“Velve?”
“What does that mean?” I ask. I’ve never heard her say this before.
“Blade.” She replies, confidently.
“Blade? Ah, now that is a suitable name.”
“It suits her markings.” Raven comments.
“Velve it is then.” I announce. “Come Velve, lets see if we can get back sooner.”
Velve thunders into a gallop, and we ride into the sunset.