Plot Costs and Payments (ft. Spiritbride)

[The Narrator]

ℂ𝕠𝕤𝕥𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 ℙ𝕒𝕪𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤 Katjana ul Erinnian was perfect. She knew it. So did everyone else around her. She didn't even need to remind anyone of this. The touch of ul on her body was clear. She examined her perfectly manicured nails as one of her attendants, a vibrant and handsome man, rubbed her feet under the water of the large tub she was soaking in. She rolled her eyes back and leaned back, letting the cool stone of the tub chill her back for a moment. She'd been soaking for nearly an hour and her fingers hadn't started to prune—they never would. "I'm finished here," she said to the man, who promptly got out of the tub, wrapped a towel around his waist, and then held a soft cotton robe open for Katjana to slip into. She got out of the tub, water dripping off her lithe beautiful body, and then slipped her arms into the sleeves before tying the robe shut at the front. She held out a hand and another towel was immediately placed in it. She started to gently pat at her long hair, darkened from the water. "Kindly fetch me something to eat and drink," she said. The man nodded and disappeared out the door. Katjana walked over to the balcony that overlooked the courtyard of the Erinnian family estate in the center of Khare and opened the glass double doors to let in some of the cool morning breeze. She leaned against the metal railings as water dripped from her hair into the open courtyard below. Servants and attendants busied themselves for the day, cleaning, preparing food, and ensuring that any number of rooms of the large estate were ready to receive guests. The Voice of ul, after all, was always busy. If she wasn't entertaining, she was making arrangements for other parties to meet. It was a critical role that she had in the government, that of... facilitator. "Quinna!" Katjana waved lightly to one of the household servants. She had been a servant to the ul Erinnian line for decades and was in charge of supervising maids, servants, advisors, and the like. Quinna looked up at the balcony and quietly awaited instructions. She was, after all, blessed to be in service to such divinity. "Can you please send for Hadrea Shademire? I have need of her." The older woman nodded politely and then turned and left the courtyard, presumably to go find the young political advisor to the Voice of ul. It would surely take Quinna some time to track down the advisor, and that gave Katjana more than enough time to finish her morning routine. Katjana turned and walked into back into her suite and toweled off her hair before brushing it and teasing out any knots. It didn't take long for her hair to dry, and in that time she walked over to her armoire and took out a lush silk gown with a high collar, woven with silver, gold, and littered with small gemstones in the shape of a flower. She selected a deep red belt and wrapped it around her delicate waist, before looking at herself in the mirror, turning from side to side, looking at her profile, and ensuring that she was showing off enough of her curves to be tantalizing without being... well, trashy. She had a reputation to maintain, after all. While she served the little people she was still the Voice of a goddess. Some time later, dressed and with her makeup properly applied, she sat in front of a large mirror and carefully positioned colourful feathers in her hair. She tilted her head to the side and positioned another one before plucking a pair of grapes from a platter of fruit that the servant had brought her earlier. She chewed thoughtfully and inserted a bright red feather next to the others as a knock filled the room with sound. Hopefully, it was Hadrea. She had business to attend to and it was the sort of business that the Voice of ul should be taking part in herself. Politics always had a darker underbelly, but that didn't mean that she had any need to soil the hem of her white silk dress trudging around the city, in this heat no less to see to. She had asked for two items to be provided, a bottle of liquor from a city state that was currently under embargo and information about a rumour that she had heard from a politician who spoke more than he should when plied with wine and sex. So, she needed the alcohol and she needed the information, and both were expensive. While she would normally use common political contacts for the liquor, when Crowhoods were mentioned, she knew that the ticket price was no longer as advertised. The Voice of ul would almost certainly be able to get what she wanted, for free no less, but it was always best to keep a resource like that thieves guild on good terms. Keep your enemies close, and all that... The Crowhoods, through back channels, had listed quite the price in gold, and she'd put it in a little velour pouch and placed it on a table near the door of her room. When the sound of a firm knock filled her room again, she picked up another feather and examined it carefully, letting Hadrea linger at the door for a moment. She slipped the feather into her hair. "Come in, Hadrea," she said, her voice pure honey—sweet and rich.

 

[Spiritbride]

Hadrea Shademire was settled in her own quarters, which were a stark contrast to the opulence of Katjana's. The room was practical, its shelves laden with scrolls and books, the atmosphere dense with the aroma of ink and parchment. In this haven of knowledge, Hadrea crafted strategies, her thoughts perpetually advancing beyond the immediate. She was seated at her desk, a vast and aged piece that carried the scars of endless hours of work. Spread out before her was a map of the city-states, its boundaries delineated with pins and strings, symbolizing the fragile equilibrium of power she was instrumental in upholding. Her fingers glided across the map, following the paths of trade and pacts, her expression one of deep focus.

The room's silence was broken only by the scratching of a quill on paper as she composed a letter to a secretive ally in the north. Information was the currency of politics, and Hadrea was its meticulous chronicler. Every word was selected deliberately, every sentence a subtle ballet of diplomacy and intrigue.

As the morning sun filtered through the high window, casting elongated shadows across the chamber, Hadrea paused, her hand hovering over the parchment. She sensed the shift in the atmosphere, the faint stir that signaled a new task, a fresh course. It was at this moment that Quinna's gentle knock resonated within the room, a courteous yet persistent interruption to her realm of schemes and strategies.

Hadrea rose from her chair and slid the incomplete letter into a drawer, securing it against curious eyes. She adjusted her gown, which was modest yet dignified, selected for practicality but still suitable for her rank. She approached the door, opened it, and found the familiar face of Quinna on the other side.

At the age of 28, Hadrea Shademire embodied the essence of a political advisor: unassuming yet sharply intelligent. Her presence didn't demand immediate attention when she entered a room, nor did it need to. Her face was a study in practicality, with observant eyes that seemed to take in everything—a soft brown, reminiscent of the fertile soil of her family's lands. These eyes were accentuated by full lashes and expressive brows that often creased in concentration or arched in quiet inquiry. Her complexion showed the delicate lines of one who lingered more often in deep thought than under the sun, offering a pale contrast to the darker hues of her Khare counterparts. Nonetheless, it had a certain enduring quality, hinting at long nights dedicated to studying texts and days spent maneuvering through the complex dynamics of courtly politics.

Hadrea's chestnut hair fell in a controlled cascade, typically secured in a straightforward braid or bun, a functional style that kept it from interfering with her duties. It wasn't the luxurious mane of a noblewoman aiming to captivate but rather the sensible choice of someone who prioritized substance and clarity over appearance. Her clothing was consistently understated and practical, with a preference for muted colors that allowed her to blend into her surroundings, to watch and sway events without becoming the center of attention. The garments were finely crafted but lacked the extravagant display typical of the ul's court; they subtly suggested quality and, even more discreetly, the wealth at her disposal, which she chose not to display ostentatiously. Overall, Hadrea's plain appearance was an intentional strategy. It granted her the freedom to navigate spaces unimpeded, to be overlooked, to serve as the silent yet influential force behind the throne rather than the conspicuous sovereign. In a realm where outward appearances could serve as both a tool and a vulnerability, Hadrea's guise was her shield, donned with a discreet assurance that was distinctly hers.

Escorted by Quinna, Hadrea felt her pulse quicken as she neared the lavish doors to Katjana ul Erinnian's chambers. The invitation had come without warning, disrupting her otherwise well-orchestrated day. She was accustomed to operating in obscurity, amid hushed tones of silk and secrecy, not under the ul's direct gaze. She hesitated, her hand just shy of the elaborate handle, marshaling her thoughts as one would don armor. Hadrea was adept at navigating the complex dances of influence and intrigue, but Katjana was unparalleled, a tempest adorned in silk and jewels. To be summoned by her was both a privilege and a daunting experience.

Inhaling deeply, Hadrea stepped into the room, her gaze instantly fixating on the figure before the mirror. Katjana stood resplendent, the epitome of the Voice of ul, ethereal and beyond reach. The plumes adorning her hair seemed to embody the very notion of ascent, of liberation, in stark juxtaposition to the solid reality of their metropolis.

"Katjana ul Erinnian," Hadrea intoned, her voice unwavering though her heart fluttered. "You have requested my presence?"

 

[The Narrator]

She's so... plain, Katjana thought sadly as she looked at the other woman. Her face, however, a perfect mask. "Hadrea!" The r of her name rolled ever so slightly. Katjana lifted herself from her seat, her arms spread slightly as she walked over to the political advisor that had shown such promise at such a young age. She had heard promising things, and so she just had to have her. Political advisors were common, to say the least, but truly talented ones were exceptionally rare. Katjana wasn't entirely sure if it was ul that had demanded that Hadrea be brought into the family's inner circles—well, perhaps not inner circles—or if it had been a personal desire that she had acted upon. Regardless, such things did not anger ul. The goddess had always made her pleasure and displeasure known to Katjana, and until such time that the current Voice of ul displeased the goddess, she would continue to act as if all was well. The Voice of ul was ever so slightly taller than Hadrea, just enough that she was able to look down on the other woman. She slipped her hands over the woman's hips, feeling the coarse and mundane fabric she wore about the estate. She would need to see to Hadrea being provided something more... fitting. She planted two quick pecks, cheek to cheek with the other woman before slipping her arm around one of Hadrea's and pulling her into the room. "I'm so happy that you were punctual!" Katjana practically floated through the room towards one of the expansive balconies off the sitting room of her wing of the estate. There were two chairs, both very comfortable, low to the ground, and awash with comfortable pillows. She gestured towards one of the chairs and slipped into the other one, reclining back, crossing her long legs and letting the white silk gown slip away from her leg, exposing flawless skin. "I have a matter of great importance, my dear, and I hope that this is something that I can entrust to you, yes?" She did not wait for an answer—the Voice did not wait. "When you walked into my wing, there was a bag on the table next to the door. It contains a..." a soft pause, "considerable amount of money that needs to be provided to someone in exchange for goods." She turned her head, the brilliant plumage catching the sun, adding a flare of colour to her sharp features. "It's a Crowhood that you'll need to meet. You'll be fetching me a bottle of something-or-other brandy." She made a dismissive gesture with her hand before fiddling with two of the pea-sized rubies on the high collar of her gown. "I'm sure that the crow will have the right one, they are reliable, if nothing else." She closed her eyes letting the warmth of the morning sun wash over her face. "The other thing I want you to retrieve is information. I have it on good authority that this information is very valuable, and as such may require further compensation beyond what is in the bag. As you may..." she eyed Hadrea carefully, "or may not have heard, Crowhoods are quite useful but have a reputation of raising the price at the last minute. There should be enough money, but if they wish for something more... intangible, you'll need to take care of that and the goddess will reimburse you later." Another pause, though brief. "Hadrea, there are whispers of war in council chambers and bed chambers, and there is nothing that I dislike more than the idea of war coming to Khare and killing innocent people. This cannot... will not... be allowed to stand. And so you will go and meet with this Crowhood and get the information that they have. I have matters to attend to and cannot retrieve it myself. Nor would be it proper for the Voice of ul to be trudging around some back alley or ramshackle tavern digging around waiting for literal thieves to show up. We have reputations to consider, after all." Katjana turned her rich, dark brown eyes and locked them with Hadrea's. "You will do this for me, yes?"

 

[Spiritbride]

Hadrea's gaze met Katjana's with an unwavering stillness, a serene lake reflecting the certainty of the sky. "Of course," she affirmed, her voice a soft undercurrent beneath the more assertive waves of her usual tone. "Punctuality is not merely my forte; it is the cornerstone upon which the edifice of my reputation is built," she added, her words flowing with the grace of a seasoned diplomat as she stepped deeper into the chamber that seemed to pulse with the lifeblood of luxury.

Katjana's words, however, planted seeds of curiosity in the fertile soil of Hadrea's mind. 'A matter of great importance?' The phrase echoed in the chambers of her thoughts, each reverberation a tantalizing hint of a challenge, a riddle wrapped in enigma. Could this be the trial by fire that would forge her destiny, the crucible that would test her mettle? The ember of opportunity was kindled within her, and ambition, the trait that truly characterized Hadrea, fanned it into a flame.

With rapt attention, Hadrea absorbed every syllable that fell from Katjana's lips, each word a droplet contributing to the river of her consciousness. Brandy and hushed conversations, the drumbeat of war and the shadow dance of secrets—her mind was a loom, and these threads were woven into an intricate tapestry of potential scenarios and outcomes. The Crowhoods, a guild cloaked in the velvet of silence and the subtlety of night, pledged their allegiance in exchange for gold and the currency of clandestine knowledge. Hadrea was no stranger to their rites and rituals, the delicate ballet of negotiation that their dealings demanded.

"I am not merely keen; I am fervently committed to fulfilling the tasks you lay before me. Your desires are the commands that I shall execute with the stealth of a shadow and the efficacy of the sun's rise," she declared with a smooth cadence, her reputation for meticulous word selection casting a long shadow before her. In the grand theater of politics, the craft of adulation and assurances was the very stage upon which one performed, and Hadrea was a virtuoso poised for ascent. "You have my unwavering assurance, Katjana ul Erinnian. Your wishes will be fulfilled. But where will I find this Crowhood?"

 

[The Narrator]

"You have my unwavering assurance, Katjana ul Erinnian. Your wishes will be fulfilled. But where will I find this Crowhood?" Beneath the layers of formality and the excessive supplication, Hadrea was not stupid. It was good that she wasn't—Katjana would have bored with that kind of mindless servitude. She had enough of that in her day to day life. At least she knew that the task that was given to Hadrea would be done with a sort of zealous desire to please, but not sloppily and stupidly. She leaned back again in her chair and peered out over the courtyard and watched the estate servants wander about, all in service of ul. In service of the Voice. "Do not be dismissive of the dangers that the Crowhoods. I do not ask this task of you lightly." She puffed her cheeks a little and reached up to rub her eyes. "You'll find them in the West Quarter, in an alley behind the tavern The Gold Chalice. I'm certain that they're make you wait, that is... customary." The Voice did not wait. "I have a name, Arn'shen. There is nothing else beyond that and the location, and I suppose that they do not need to give more... Pft, Crowhoods." She looked annoyed. "For all the good they do they're a blight on this city." Katjana pushed herself to her feet and started walking towards the door. She opened the door and gestured towards the plump and slightly heavy bag of money on the table next to the door. "Be sure to take that with you, it will not be cheap. "

 

[Spiritbride]

With a graceful nod, Hadrea approached the table, her fingers brushing against the heavy bag of coins with a soft clink. She hoisted it over her shoulder, the weight a solid reminder of the task ahead. Quinna, the serving attendant, appeared at the doorway, her eyes downcast in a silent offer of guidance.

"I shall take my leave." With a customary bow, Hadrea bid her mistress a formal farewell. She then turned to the attendant and said gently, "Lead the way, Quinna." Her eyes swept over the lavishness of the apartment one last time before she followed the attendant's silent footsteps.

The city of Khare greeted Hadrea with its relentless sun and streets bustling with life. The air was thick with the scent of spices and the chatter of merchants hawking their wares. She passed by shops with colorful awnings, where silks and jewels promised the allure of the desert's hidden treasures. The clatter of a blacksmith's hammer mingled with the melodic calls of a snake charmer, each sound a note in the symphony of the marketplace. Adjusting the bag's strap on her shoulder, Hadrea's eyes scanned the throngs of people, each face a story untold. Her path led her away from the vibrant market square and later into the narrow, shadowed alleys that webbed the city's underbelly. The alley was cooler, the sun's harsh rays blocked by the high walls on either side. Graffiti in a myriad of languages decorated the stone, and the occasional scurry of a rodent's feet was the only sound that accompanied her. Hadrea's steps were measured, her senses alert as she ventured deeper into the labyrinth of Khare's secrets, the weight of the bag a constant companion.

 

[The Narrator]

Katjana watched the other woman nod and then disappear out her door and then turned to look at herself in the mirror. Quinna would take the other woman to the front doors of the estate and no further, and probably not say anything along the way. That was, after all, the best quality of the servants of ul who had been in the family's employ for years—they knew how to keep their mouths shut. Silence, after all, was as golden as the large bangles that she slipped her right hand through. Well, she thought to herself, let's see just how good this information is... Arn'shen Shadowhood was getting bored of waiting. It wasn't as if she was against waiting, it was part of the job—usually, though, waiting was done in places like taverns, or marketplaces, or even the occasional park. Not some shit-hole of an alley with fucking rats and other vermin skittering about in the shadows. If there was ever an alley that needed a good ratter dog, it was this one. Arn'shen didn't even know why they weren't meeting at the tavern that was literally right around the corner. She was probably being punished for annoying Thenis for the millionth time. She sighed, rubbing the nub where the small finger on her left hand ended in a small stump. She sighed again, loudly, looking down from the roof of what she imagined must be a blacksmith given the racket that was coming up through the wooden ceiling. She could use a good dog, a companion to keep her company in this inane waiting game. She heard the footsteps before she actually saw the woman. Underneath the silvered metal mask that covered her face, her brown eyes narrowed slightly to get a better look at the woman. She walked with a sort of alert concern that one might have if they'd never been to that particular part of town. If you were from the Dregs, you knew that nothing drew unwanted attention to you like acting like you weren't from there. Too true Arn'shen thought as she raised her head away from the woman and looked to the row of houses on the other side of the alley. Nearly directly across from her were two shadowy figures, halflings from the look of them, and one of them was flipping a knife back up and down. Gods damned hoodlums, she thought. She fished through her belt and flipped a dagger into the edge of the roof between the two halflings from beneath her heavy cloak. They looked up at her, annoyed, and then catching sight of the vaguely avian mask, recoiled quickly and vanished. After the woman passed by underneath her, Arn'shen dropped from the roof, landing noiselessly on the ground behind the woman. Her boots muffling all the sound from the landing, more-so than a mundane pair of boots would. "You're the servant?" Arn'shen's voice was calm and measured. There wasn't anything accusatory or even insulting in the tone of voice—the statement was one of confirmation. "Do you have the payment?" Straight to business, try to keep the other nine fingers, Arn'shen

 

[Spiritbride]

In the dim light of the Dregs, Hadrea's mind was a fortress of silent contemplation, her thoughts weaving through the complexities of her dual existence. As she navigated the treacherous labyrinth of narrow alleys and shadowed corners, she caught a glimps of the Crowhood, her composed exterior was a mask as effective as the one adorning her face. While Hadrea approaching her was a stark contrast. Particularly in her tentative steps and cautious glances painting her as an outsider, her presence a discordant note in the symphony of the Dregs.
As the woman finally drew near, Hadrea's eyes met Arn'shen's beneath the metallic mask. Hadrea's gaze, scrutinized the eyes from behind the mask, dissected the woman's every move, just as she would be scrutinized. For each of Hadrea's hesitant gestures or wary looks would be an open book to the Crowhood, so she determinedly composed herself as the woman she was, a seasoned scholar. The Dregs were unforgiving, a place where predators lurked in every shadow, waiting for the slightest sign of vulnerability to pounce.

The Crowhood's presence was an enigma, a title that commanded both fear and respect in equal measure. The question posed by Arn'shen, though expected, caught Hadrea off guard, prompting a humorless chuckle to escape her lips. It was a laugh devoid of mirth, a sound that echoed the irony of her situation. To her employer, she might well be a servant, a pawn in a game of power and intrigue. With a nod, Hadrea acknowledged the Crowhood's inquiry about the payment. The hefty bag she revealed was heavy with the weight of unknown contents, its value a mystery even to her. She had been cautioned that the price of the information might escalate a variable dependent on the significance of the secrets it held. Yet, as a political advisor, Hadrea understood the currency of information, the power it wielded in shaping empires and toppling thrones.

"You have, information in exchange for this payment?"

The exchange was a delicate dance, a negotiation of shadows and whispers. Hadrea's role was pivotal, a bridge between the unseen forces that moved within the Dregs and the illuminated world above. Her advice, her counsel, was sought after by those who understood the true nature of power. And in this moment, as she stood before Arn'shen, Hadrea was acutely aware of the balance she maintained, a balance as precarious as the fate of the information nestled within the bag she held.

 

[The Narrator]

Arn'shen snorted loudly at the question, as if it somehow insulted her. She fished through the heavy cloak and withdrew a bottle, thin and made of some kind of blue crystal, and held it up to the light. She examined the contents and gave it to the other woman. "This was not particularly easy to come back. Embargos in Tethis have more teeth than they do in Khare, so more than a handful of people had to be bribed to get this. Make sure that you don't drop it, it would be a shame to have to try and track down another one." When Arn'shen passed over the bottle and took the sack from Hadrea, she crouched down, opened the top of the bag and examined the contents for a few seconds. Satisfied, she pulled the strings on the top of the sack shut and then it disappeared under the cloak again. Arn'shen fished through some pockets and withdrew an envelope with a light blue wax seal. The seal had been cracked, but it was plain to see that it belonged to one of the churches in Tethis. No one else used that sort of distinctive colouration for their wax seals. "This is the information that was discussed between our respective handlers. I'm sure it will be of... great importance to the Voice of whatever-god-she-worships," Arn'shen was careful to keep her voice down and the goddess in the abstract, but the message was clear. I know you have deep pockets. "But, the price has gone up..." This was the eternal truth of dealing with Crowhoods. The good were always worth it in the end, but those good would cost more than you initially though. The question is whether or not you'd be willing to pay the final price. Would it be too much for one person to carry? A hundred gold when you had only eighty to your name? A favour down the line when you were an up-and-comer in the world? It could all depend very much on the needs of the Crowhoods as an institution, or perhaps the whims of an individual Crowhood. "One of your fingers, a small one will do." As if to emphasize the demand, Arn'shen raised her hand, the one missing a finger, and gave the digits a bit of a wiggle. "You can give me one of the other ones, if you prefer, but I'm not particularly picky, to tell you the truth. Doesn't matter which hand, doesn't matter which finger." She lowered her hand and rested it on the pommel of a dagger at her belt, waiting for Hadrea to make her decision. "So? What'll it be? Information or no information?"

 

[Spiritbride]

Hadrea's mind raced as she weighed her options, the gravity of Arn'shen's demand sinking in like a stone in still water. The information within the envelope could very well be the linchpin to her intricate web of strategies, the key to unlocking the power she so craved. Yet she really hadn't expected the price to be measured in something of flesh and bone and not just mere gold. It should be obvious to Arn'shen that the cogs inside Hardea's mind were turning as she was considering if the information was really worth such a price.

However with the potential of such valuable information in her possession, the loss of one finger - a symbol of the lengths the young woman was willing to go to secure her advantages in life. The embargos of Tethis were indeed formidable, but so was her resolve. The contents of that thin blue crystal vial could sway the opinions of those perched high in their towers of piety and judgement. A drop here, a word there, and the scales would tip in her favor. The envelope, sealed with the distinctive light blue wax of the Tethian church, was another piece of the puzzle. It held secrets that could unravel the fabric of alliances or tighten the threads of her own influence. The Voice of the goddess would indeed find it of great importance, but at what cost?

Hadrea looked at the hand resting on the dagger's pommel, the missing finger a testament to the Crowhood's ruthlessness. A finger was a small price to pay for power, wasn't it? Yet, it was not the loss of the digit that gave Hadrea pause—it was the precedent it set. Today a finger, tomorrow... what? Her very soul?

She knew the Crowhoods were not to be trifled with. Their demands were not just transactions; they were tests—tests of one's ambition, one's bravery, one's sanity. To refuse was to show weakness, to accept was to show commitment. And Hadrea was nothing if not committed.

So, with a steady gaze, she met Arn'shen's eyes.

"Information is power, and power is worth any price," she said, her voice betraying none of the turmoil within. "If you're not picky, you may take right pinky finger." And with that, Hadrea extended her hand, the decision made. The path to power was paved with sacrifices, and she would walk it, one severed piece at a time.

 

[The Narrator]

"Information is power, and power is worth any price. If you're not picky, you may take right pinky finger." Arn'shen was never one to understand what these politicians thought or what they conceived of as fair exchanges of one thing for another. The information was valuable sure, but this one had to have a few dysfunctions if she would so readily—and not to mention calmly—part with a finger for an envelope of details. Arn'shen had lost hers for being stupid, she supposed that it would only be fair if this idiot lost a finger for being stupid as well. She shrugged a bit and pulled the knife from its sheath. She tucked the envelope into her belt for a moment and reached out, grabbing the other woman's hand and with a bit of a tug, pulled her closer. "Sure, lady—whatever you say." She put the edge of the blade against the small finger of the woman's right hand and cut into the finger. With a seemingly slow precision, she carved though the meat, avoided the bone, and sheared off the finger, leaving only a wound where the metacarpal ended. In a blurring motion, she caught the finger as it toppled off the hand and pocketed it. She ignored the woman's reaction, she didn't care what the woman felt. But the price had been paid. Arn'shen wiped the blade off on her cloak, replaced it in its scabbard, and then held out the letter so that the woman could take it from her when she was... sufficiently recovered. The one thing that did impress Arn'shen was that Hadrea had managed to not drop the bottle. She wondered if it was fear of a goddess or an iron will that had managed to keep a vice-like grip on the bottle. In the end, Arn'shen didn't care about that either. With her free hand she held up the finger, and rotated it slowly, examining it. Seemingly satisfied, she tucked it into a pouch on her belt and when the other woman took the costly envelope from her, she would wordlessly turn and walk away. Crowhoods were not famous for their idle chit-chat.

 

[Spiritbride]

Would she rue the loss of her digit? At the moment of decision, doubt had not clouded her judgment. Yet, as Arn'shen advanced, his blade glinting with malevolent intent, the weight of her choice bore down upon her with a chilling finality. The knife, poised to sever her pinky with surgical precision, was a stark reminder that there was no turning back. Negotiation had never crossed her mind; she had assumed the cost was set in stone, beyond the reach of haggling with the keeper of secrets. However now an accord is struck, it was etched in stone.

Hadrea's stoicism wavered; a sharp intake of breath betrayed her discomfort as the blade descended. The severed finger, now in Arn'shen's possession, marked the completion of their transaction—a pact sealed in blood and flesh. Despite the pain, Hadrea couldn't help but marvel at the stranger's swift reflexes—a testament to her skill and perhaps, her ruthlessness.

The true value of the information remained to be seen. Would it justify the excruciating price paid in flesh and bone? She pushed aside thoughts of what fate awaited her severed digit among the shadowy ranks of the crowhoods. Her focus was singular: to staunch the flow of blood from her hand with a torn strip of fabric from her dress. Arn'shen's patience was commendable; she waited for her to tend to her wound before delivering the letter—the tangible proof of her sacrifice. Then they went their seprate ways.

...

As Hadrea navigated the labyrinthine streets back to her quarters, her mind buzzed with potential strategies. The letter, a cryptic missive from an enigmatic informant, whispered of secrets potent enough to upheave the city's entrenched power dynamics. The unassuming bottle she carried concealed a substance that might just be the key to unlocking those clandestine truths.

Katjana's assurance of compensation lingered in Hadrea's thoughts. In this realm where whispers held sway and shadows brokered deals, knowledge was indeed power. But what currency could she offer for such invaluable intelligence? A new finger was beyond consideration. Yet, perhaps there were other avenues through which she could exploit her unique talents. As she weighed her options, Hadrea contemplated the ramifications of wielding this newfound leverage. Could she ascend within her own ranks? Or would it be more prudent to navigate a treacherous path between competing factions, using this knowledge as a bargaining chip?

The evening breeze caressed her skin with a gentle chill as she made her way home, each step heavy with the gravity of her decision. The road ahead was fraught with peril and ambiguity, but Hadrea was no stranger to perilous gambits. With resolve burning in her eyes, she steeled herself for whatever challenges lay ahead.

Once she was back in her office, Hadrea opened the letter.

 

[The Narrator]

𝔈𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔡 ℌ𝔦𝔤𝔥 𝔐𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔢, ℑ𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔲𝔫𝔠𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔰𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔯. 𝔖𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔰𝔥𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩 𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫. ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔢, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔰𝔭𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔴𝔬 𝔭𝔢𝔬𝔭𝔩𝔢 𝔴𝔥𝔬 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔯𝔬𝔬𝔪 𝔞𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔯, 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔣𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡𝔩𝔶 𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔪𝔰. 𝔖𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔢𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔥𝔢 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴𝔰 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔰𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡. 𝔄𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤. 𝔖𝔥𝔢 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴𝔰 𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔥𝔢 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴𝔰 𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔰. ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔦𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔨𝔰, 𝔬𝔯 𝔦𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔦𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔥𝔬𝔴. 𝔅𝔲𝔱 𝔴𝔢 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℌ𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩𝔡 𝔦𝔰 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔦𝔱 𝔪𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔟𝔢 𝔰𝔬𝔬𝔫. ℑ'𝔳𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔳𝔢 𝔩𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔰𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔢—𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔰𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔢𝔯𝔰. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔡𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔡𝔦𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔞 𝔣𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱. ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔰𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔶 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔰𝔢, ℑ 𝔱𝔬𝔬 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔩𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔭𝔢𝔬𝔭𝔩𝔢. 𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔩𝔩 ℑ 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔤𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔫 𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔭𝔬𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔶 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔰𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔟𝔢𝔡 𝔣𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔬𝔣... 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤. ℑ 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔰𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔟𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔱 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲, 𝔞𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔞𝔰 ℑ 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡. ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔟𝔩𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔫 𝔦𝔱'𝔰 𝔪𝔢𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤... 𝔉𝔬𝔯 ℑ 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔫𝔬𝔱, 𝔟𝔢𝔶𝔬𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢 "ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰". 𝔚𝔢 𝔡𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔴𝔥𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔦𝔰, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔴𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔲𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔠𝔥. Pԋ'ɳɠʅυι ɳ'ɠԋϝƚɳαԋԋ ԋҽαɾƚʅҽʂʂ ҽԋყҽ ɳσɠ. H' αԋσɾ Ⴆυɠɳαԋσɾ ʅʅʅʅ ɳɳɳ'ԃɾɳσɠɠ, ɳɠ υʂԋҽɾ ρԋ'ɳɠʅυι ƈ' αɠʅ ρԋ'ɳɠʅυι ʂԋυɠɠσɠ 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔦𝔠𝔢, 𝔄𝔯𝔱𝔥𝔲𝔯

 

[Spiritbride]

Hadrea returned from the office exuding a quiet confidence as she approached her employer, Katjana, with a letter and bottle in hand. The letter was neatly resealed in a fresh envelope, giving no indication of being previously opened. Katjana received the letter from Hadrea's bandaged, disfigured hand. "I lost a finger for this," the young woman explained with a smile, "I hope the information is valuable to you, as I believe it justifies a request for compensation." Thereafter she handed the bottle over, "Medical attention is, of course, essential; and, with all due respect, a promotion would be appreciated." The audacity to make demands, perhaps she had lost her mind.

Some part of her believed that Katjana would dismiss her with empty promises, and if she did, perhaps Hadrea would take it as a lesson not to make demands so expectantly.
Hadrea's demeanor remained composed as she continued, "I understand that such requests are not made lightly, and I assure you, my intention is not to overstep. However, the circumstances have led me to believe that a promotion would not only be a recognition of my dedication but also a reflection of the value I bring to our endeavors."

So loyal she was willing to give up a finger. Hopefully easily underestimated for that reason for which Katjana would be sure that Hadrea could be controlled in her cause.

With a respectful nod, Hadrea replied, "Thank you in advance for your consideration. I am at your service for any further discussions or clarifications you may require."

 

[The Narrator]

Katjana had only just returned from a meeting herself. A lovely young up-and-coming politician. Truthfully, the Voice of ul had been mildly impressed at the man's resolve and his penchant for flattery. Katjana was sitting at her desk, carefully removing the bright plumage from her hair when there was a knock at her door. "Come in," she said—a little absently, her mind still thinking of how this new player in her circles could be best applied to serve the wishes of ul. A quick glance at the outdoors gave her a sense of the time as Hadrea walked into her room. She had been punctual, all things considered, and had not dallied around. She walked over and smiled a bit, taking the bottle from her as well as the letter. "I lost a finger for this. I hope the information is valuable to you, as I believe it justifies a request for compensation." Katjana said nothing as she walked over to her desk, sat down, and pulled a short blade from a drawer and slowly slid it along the seal of the letter. She said nothing as she opened the letter, withdrew the contents, and read them carefully. "Medical attention is, of course, essential; and, with all due respect, a promotion would be appreciated." Hadrea continued speaking, and an almost impossible to detect twitch at the corner of Katjana's right eye—if it was the continued speaking or the contents of the letter, only the Voice of ul knew. She read the letter a second time before replacing it back in the envelope and putting it on her desk. She placed the blade on top of the letter. "I understand that such requests are not made lightly, and I assure you, my intention is not to overstep. However, the circumstances have led me to believe that a promotion would not only be a recognition of my dedication but also a reflection of the value I bring to our endeavors. Thank you in advance for your consideration. I am at your service for any further discussions or clarifications you may require." So plain, yet so keen to make demands of a goddess, Katjana thought. She turned to look at Hadrea, her eyes warm as always. She picked up a bell from a nearby table and gave it a chime, mere moments later, a young woman slipped into the room behind them. "Juna, please take Hadrea to see the doctor so that they can clean and bandage the injury. I'm sure that it must hurt dreadfully, so make sure that they give her something to dull that pain. Please send for Quinna." "Yes, mistress," Juna nodded politely and gestured for Hadrea to follow her. When the two left and the door closed behind them, Katjana ul Erinnian walked over to her desk again, picked up the bottle, and opened it, pouring herself a glass of the light blue liquid. She sniffed at it, sipped it, and then drank a bit more. Why this embargo exists is ridiculous, she thought as she slipped into her seat. She waited for Quinna, and thought about what Hadrea had said: "I lost a finger for this". How stupid. Lost. She looked at the bottle of alcohol and then the letter. To permanently disfigure yourself over such a trivial set of things, even if in service to Katjana. She wondered if there had even been negotiations. She Hadrea think that Katjana was going to just grow her a new finger? And to ask for—demand—a promotion... For what, maiming yourself on an errand? Quinna opened the door and walked in. "Ma'am?" "Set up a meeting with Thenis. I'll have a word with him about his Crowhood's penchant for mutilation." She sipped the drink again and found it delightfully to her liking. "Arrange for a compensation of a few hundred gold to be paid to Hadrea for the loss of her finger. Perhaps she can find someone who is willing to heal that injury. Give her a parting compensation as well, a decent one." "You will not be retaining her?" "She maimed herself and tried to play it for a promotion, this is... an undesirable quality. Once she's been seen and tended to by the doctor, have her removed from the grounds. Go through her room. Go through everything, and if anything seems amiss, report it to me. Otherwise, arrange for her to be put up in an inn for a month, that should get her enough time to recover and then find a new... purpose. After working for me, it is likely that she will have many seeking out her services, but the House of ul will not have psychosis within our ranks." "As you wish, ma'am." She watched as Quinna left and then picked up her glass and walked over to the balcony. The alcohol was in fact, delicious. Her afternoon in the sun, and getting a little bit tipsy, had been worth the price. ~ End ~​