The rain cascaded on Whitehaven’s streets like a curtain of glistening beads, each bead plummeting freely until colliding with its target and exploding gloriously.
As long as its target wasn’t your eye, foolishly looking upward, you would be fine. Summers were warm in Donyavar, the neighboring land to Inyan. Whitehaven, the capital of that land, was famed far and wide for its glistening marble walls and streets, signs of its affluence and might.
The guards of Whitehaven, on the other hand, left much to be desired. As the woman and her companion entered the city through the main gate, the guards were too immersed in their game of Flags to even notice someone had entered. The woman tsked and shook her head, but the man smiled, glad that the men were enjoying themselves.
Both wore cloaks of dark black to keep the rain from their eyes, cloaks unmarked save for the small crimson cross embroidered on the right shoulder. To those who did not know of them, the symbol was nothing other than a decoration. To those who did, the symbol testified of their Guild Affiliation with the Crimson Crosses, a small adventurers Guild operating from the Inyani town of Harfast.
As the pair walked the streets, the woman surveyed the surrounding buildings seeking an inn, while the man looked around in wonder. The woman’s eyes lighted upon her sought-after establishment, a place imaginatively named The Inn.
As the pair entered, the woman lowered her hood. Her hair was short and raggedly cut, hanging just below her chin. Her hair was raven black, save for a streak of red in the lock that perpetually hung over her right eye. Her skin was pale, and her makeup accentuated that fact with its dark colors. Beneath her left eye, a symbol: a small half-diamond underlined her eye, its tip ending at her cheekbone. She was fair to look upon, and her face seemed to have an ageless quality to it, which annoyed the staff of The Inn to no end.
The man lowered his hood and straightened his shoulder length blonde hair. His ears were pointed elegantly, and his face constantly had a small smile on it. His skin was light golden, and he wore a small silver cross around his neck to show his status as a priest.
The woman took a seat at a round table in the dark corner, but her companion sat at the table next to it, which was somewhat more illuminated. After a brief wordless argument executed with expressions and gestures, the woman sighed and moved from her table to sit next to her companion.
One of the servers, a young woman with curly brown hair and freckles, approached and began to speak.
“Greetings, travelers! What may I get you on this rainy evening? We have tea if you’re feeling unwell after getting wet.”
The woman with the short hair sighed and spoke, her voice slightly lower than one would expect.
“I’ll have some brew, and the gentleman here will have, without fail…”
“Water.” He said in a slightly musical voice. The maid blushed slightly, and a flash of aggression flared in the woman’s eyes.
“Sorry, missy: he’s taken.” The maid’s eyes widened for a second, and she nodded and walked away.
“Well, it’s an improvement over the last one. No sword, for one thing.” The man said, and the woman chuckled. Shortly thereafter, the maid returned with their drinks, and after a drink, the woman spoke.
“Well, Orijen, what kind of work are we here to do?”
“Ideally, we’ll be finding out here in a few moments. My contact should already be here… Hopefully she’ll arrive soon, Aja.”
(TUNE IN NEXT WEEK FOR PART TWO!)