Author's Preface
The first thing that hit him was the smell.
Arjuna's nostrils were flooded with the stench of rot, burning flesh, and the coppery tang of blood.
Blood pooled beneath his knees, running like rivers down the hall. Corpses lined at his feet, some he recognized, some he didn't.
"Nassor?" He called out, his voice echoing in the darkness.
He ventured forward, his nose twitching from the rot.
"Leila? Kazan? … Captain Raktam?"
Then he saw it. At the edge. A shape, a person with silver hair, turned away.
"Big brother!" Arjuna smiled, reaching out.
It felt like he couldn't reach him. He grunted, straining his arm, wincing, until he finally touched the shoulder-
Only to be greeted by a faceless void with a sharp, wicked, fanged grin.
"Some things aren't yours to hold, little one…"
KSHHH.
Arjuna looked down to see his own brother's spear in his chest, piercing his heart, blood spilling.
"AHHHHHHH!"
"ARJUNA!"
The fair young man gasped - and sat up in bed, sweating, panting, trembling. He immediately ran his hand through his soft blonde locks.
What grounded him was the gentle hand touching his chest. And that look.
"Arjuna," Leila whispered, her brows furrowed into genuine concern. "Was it a nightmare? Shhhh. Calm down. Come here, you're okay."
She pulled him down into her bare bosom, resting his head against the soft mounds.
He slowly stopped shaking. Breathing slowing down. And then, a sigh.
"Thank you, Leila," whispered Arjuna. "Sorry. It must have been a shock."
"Don't apologize for anything. Just be quiet, and relax."
No speaking happened for the next few minutes. Just the soft rhythm of breathing. Leila's hands stroking Arjuna's hair.
Morning light was filtering into the room through the window. The bow and belongings neatly folded away indicated it was Arjuna's room at the Inn, once more. All of the mercenaries had retired after that night, into their personal chambers. It had been peaceful.
Up until now.
Arjuna told Leila what he vaguely remembered. The bodies. The smell. The noise. Nassor's incorrect face.
The Heiress hummed quietly, her features loosening.
"I do not mean to take away from your plight. But I was thinking of it all too. It didn't truly hit me until we had a moment of peace."
Leila's lips formed a mournful smile, as she gazed out the window.
"… I had almost forgotten about the sacrifices. Mister Reddy. Miss Singh. My servants, who'd been murdered by Azarin, tossed aside in that chamber."
Arjuna's expression shifted, sympathy replacing the last traces of his own fear.
"Right. With everything that happened, I'd forgotten too. We will mourn them, my glimmering star. I promise.”
“When they raid the tombs,” Arjuna nodded. “Our mercenary band will pick up the bodies. I promise.”
He pressed a kiss to Leila's bosom, and then smiled up at her, warm and radiant.
Even Leila couldn't help but giggle. "Ah, you really are too kind, sweet Juna. Thank you."
She returned the favor with a kiss to his forehead. "Death is so normal to you. And yet you still feel afraid. You still feel sympathy for people you barely knew."
Arjuna shook his head. "They deserve that. Everyone has someone mourning for them. And if they don't… I would choose to be that person."
"Mmm. And that's what I like about you." Leila let out a warm laugh, some silent tension finally leaving her shoulders. "This started as me comforting you, and now here you are, comforting me instead. Rude, honestly. I had a whole tragic monologue planned."
"My apologies," Arjuna said, lips twitching. "Please, continue being tragic. I'll wait."
"Too late. Moment's gone. You ruined it with your…" she gestured vaguely at his entire face, "... earnestness, dear."
She flopped back against the pillows with a theatrical groan, one arm thrown over her eyes.
"We'll visit my father today. Talk to him about arranging a proper memorial after the bodies are retrieved. A grand one. They didn’t have relatives here, so we’ll all be present."
"It's a plan."
They lay there a moment longer, comfortable in the quiet - a small, stubborn warmth pushing back against the memory of the tombs.
Then Leila peeked out from under her arm, glancing sideways at him.
"Still hearing the noise, Juna?"
"…A bit."
"Mm. Well." She was already sliding lower, fingers walking down his stomach with exaggerated menace, like a villain in a bad stage play. "I happen to know a very effective, very scientific method for noise cancellation."
"Leila, that's not a real-"
"Shhh. Trust me. I’m a licensed professional."
Her breath ghosted over him, grin turning wicked. "Now be a good patient and hold still. This is a medical procedure ."
"You are the worst," he wheezed, laughing despite himself, his hand finding her hair.
"The worst you'll ever love," Leila said sweetly - and pressed a kiss to the crown of his cock, swallowing the rest of his protest whole.
Outside, somewhere downstairs, someone (probably Grisha) was already yelling about breakfast and stolen plates. The cooling seals hummed. The morning kept going.
But for a little while longer, neither of them cared.
Meanwhile, two tall young men were ambling about the lazy afternoon streets. Already up and about, steps light against the paved dirt walkways.
“Ugh. Plenty of money, got a lot to spend,” Nassor began, a brown bag in his left hand. “What’s on the itinerary, my man?”
“Plenty. I gotta refill my stock of medicine and pellets. And we gotta get you a new spear,” Kazan grumbled. “Can’t have ya gettin’ even more banged up by fighting with just yer bare hands.”
“Heh. So thoughtful. Well, only one place to go then in this quaint little place.”
“Right you are. It should be just past that row of houses, left turn, and we’re golden.”
Kazan pointed past a few small mud-brick homes, the money bag at his side jingling as he did.
“Got it, not too far then.”
The intense heat made sweat run down their faces, their breathing just a tad labored.
Even the villagers couldn’t escape the heat. Some were lounging on woven mats inside their homes, others outside in the shade. A few offered polite smiles and waved.
And a few stared at the stump of Kazan’s left arm. Mostly the kids and the elderly.
“So. I’ll just be the asshole you think I am.” Nassor grinned, nudging Kazan’s side. “How ya feelin’? Getting used to just having one arm?”
“Oh totally. It’s the best. Imagine having to jerk off with just one hand,” the healer joked with a dry grin. “Instead of usin’ two like usual. Oh wait a minute - bet you can’t even fit both.”
“HAH!” Nassor burst into a jovial guffaws, holding his bandaged sides - and wincing a bit. “Oops. Laughed a bit too hard. That’s a good joke, seeing as it’s false. You’ve seen me with the town’s women enough to know that ain’t true.”
“As if that’s what I was looking at. Keep it in your pants for a while eh?”
“Speaking of… what about you?” Nassor’s lips curled, and that expression turned outright devious. “Like ya said. Quite hard to jerk yourself one with one hand. So we find you a nice lady for the night. Like… the one at the tavern~?”
“You asshole.” Kazan’s cheeks immediately went red. He scoffed, trying to act like he didn’t care. “Shit, well, maybe. You think she’d actually like me? Does my hair look okay? Should I-”
Before he continued his train of thought, the duo turned left, towards the city square now. Into the heart of Eshtara, away from the Inn. More people were visible now, strolling around the shops, or working on their textiles and selling them.
But Kazan noticed it. As did Nassor.
Not every stare was friendly now.
An older gruff man glaring daggers at the two. A group of young teens throwing cautious glances. And some women peering from inside their homes or merchant stalls - ducking away when spotted.
“... We’re almost at that point now,” Kazan murmured, keeping his voice low. “The part where the town’s welcoming presence dissipates. Our mercenary band's good manners run out. And it slowly boils into unease or worry. I’m sure Grisha and the others are restless too.”
Nassor nodded, his eyes also hardening slightly. His muscles tightened. “Mhm. Only so much for a bunch of big, predatory fish like the Black Fang to do in a small pond. I’m sure the villagers are also wonderin’ if we’re gonna turn on em.”
“More reason for the Captain to set up the tomb raid quickly then, no? WE secured the route, what's taking him so long ta choose the group?”
“It’ll be fine for now. As long as we keep relations good with Leila’s dad,” Nassor reminded him. “The Al-Thuraya House has real power in this city. Not these farmers and textile workers.”
“... I’m not worried about us, Nassor. It’s the villagers.”
“Ah. Right then. If we don’t want the villager’s blood on our hands… let’s hope The Captain can work his magic fast enough.”
Nassor’s tone was light enough to be a joke - but Kazan knew better.
It didn’t take much longer for them to find it.
The forge was a sturdy little building towards the eastern side of the town square. Heavy wooden doors. Smoke billowing out from the roof. The faint smell of coal, oil, and fire leaked out into the street.
As soon as the pair stepped inside - they were blasted by sweltering heat, and the loud roar of the flames.
The main forge and anvil dominated the center, the fire burning a unique shade of blue.
There were tool walls and racks easily within reach, fully stocked. A long scarred wooden counter was near the front, and a small workbench and storage are just behind it.
At the workbench, a mature-looking woman with short red hair and light purple eyes was working. Dressed in a simple sleeveless tank top, a blacksmith apron, and heavy work pants.
She swung her forging hammer, the loud clanks echoing through the building.
“Oh.”
Kazan immediately let out a deep groan. Face-palming and muttering some curses beneath his breath.
“Of course, it’s you. From those infamous nightly sessions.”
“Who else? This town only has one blacksmith!” Nassor’s grin widened - as he strolled up to the counter confidently. “Casssss~ I got some business for ya!”
“Oh. Nassor,” Cass remarked dryly, wiping the sweat from her brow. She set down the hammer and walked over to the counter. “Is this for business, or business?”
She leaned over the counter, a bit of sweat sliding into the deep valley of her cleavage. And a small, half-lidded gaze directed at Nassor.
Kazan cleared his throat and looked away respectfully. “The blacksmith kind, Miss. The dumbass here got his spear broken in a tough ol’ fight.”
“Did he now? Not surprised he was reckless, but that was an incredible spear. How did he-“
When she turned to Kazan, Cass’s eyes immediately noticed the stump of his left arm, neatly bandaged. And she understood.
“Right. I’m on it then. As long as you two have the funds.”
“Phew. You’re a lifesaver, Cass,” Nassor chuckled, placing his bag onto the ground.
He opened it up, and gently placed the remains of his silver engraved spear on the counter.
“Think you can fix her? Crazy cultist bitch snapped it clean in half.”
Cass only needed to look at the broken remains for a second. “Yep. That’s easy work. She broke it so cleanly, I can just reuse these parts and make you something even sturdier.”
She took the front half of the spear in hand, lifting it up and eyeing the carvings. “Some sort of silver-alloy, with bits of Azurite infused in it. I can up the Azurite density, make it even more conducive for Jiu. Use some of our local tempered steel. The engravings are easy too. But…”
Kazan got the memo. He counted some coins from the reward bag, and then placed about forty Suns onto the table. The clean silver coins were arranged into a neat little stack.
“Assuming that’s enough,” Kazan grumbled, holding the bag close to his chest.
“Fifty. Fifty-five if you want it done by tomorrow.”
“Forty-five it is, nothing more. We’re not in a rush right now,” as he gave her the remaining coins.
Cass shrugged and took the money, turning and disappearing into a side room for a second. Most likely to keep it in a secured strongbox.
Nassor leaned against the counter while waiting, his eyes casually wandering.
“Really is pretty upscale for a village of this size,” Nassor murmured. He gestured to some recently finished weapons near the forge. “Our people must be a nice bump in business, eh?”
Kazan was leaning against a far wall now, seeming eager to leave. “I mean, it makes sense. Mercenaries are big customers.” He eyed the weapons… before his expression tightened.
“Wait a damn minute, Nassor. There.”
“Huh? Whaddya mean?” Nassor turned to really look once more, making sure he didn’t miss anything, until-
Cass returned with just a sweat rag, wiping herself down. “Alright, I think that’s all on the business side. How about-” she raised her brow, turning to see what the commotion was.
Their sights were focused on a beautiful sword. Half-wrapped in soft oiled cloth, a shamshir. A continuous curve of dark-tempered steel, with an expensive black hardwood grip, and an expensive silver crossguard.
A weapon not fit for any common bandit or mercenary.
“Oh, that weapon?” Cass chuckled amusedly. “Yeah, a real fine work. She was a pleasure to maintain and repair. Came in reaaaal bloody though. It belongs to-”
“Lieutenant Kerem Dashtani. Our band’s lieutenant,” Nassor finished her sentence, letting out a small sigh. “He’s been away for some personal mission. Guess he came in yesterday?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Figured he was one of yours.”
Kazan scoffed, turning away now. “Mhm. Real callous asshole, that one. But he’s predictable. Kinda like that shitty uncle your parents don’t like bringin’ around. Except this one kills people for a living. So… kinda like my uncle. Huh.”
Nassor snickered. “Well, I can’t relate to that in any way. But a decent analogy probably? He’s The Captain’s right hand for a reason. Make sure you keep it cordial and polite with him, Cass. None of your usual sarcasm when he comes by.”
“Got it. I trust you on that.” Cass gave a curt nod, and a tired sigh. “Ugh. You mercenary folk…”
A short silence settled upon the shop. And then Cass wiped her hands on her apron, and pressed a small seal onto the forge.
The roaring of the flames came to a halt, and the heat became much more manageable, the interior cooling to a comfortable level.
“Alright. Business is settled then,” Cass remarked, nudging towards the door. “Unless you’re into watching, you can take your leave, miser boy. Sorry about your arm.”
She gripped Nassor by the hand, already dragging him behind the counter. A little eager gleam in her eyes.
“Thanks. And… don’t take too long, you fuckin’ animals.” Kazan was already on his way outside, money bag still tucked under his arm. An unamused, maybe slightly jealous look on his face.
“Come on, you musclebound idiot,” Cass murmured huskily. “You’ve got thirty minutes to rock my world before I get back to work. Make it count.”
Nassor’s crooked grin came back to full force, letting himself be dragged along. “Easier done than said, Mommy~”