LIGHTNOVELWORLD Chapter 2: ch2
The first thing that came to my attention when I awoke was the smell of cooking.
Almost by instinct, I started mentally dissecting the scent.
Boiling meat in some sort of broth, minimal spices but some vegetables. Some I could recognize and others had my mind spiralling into attempts at estimating an answer that almost overwhelmed my consciousness, which I forcibly boiled down to the key point.
I was hungry.
And more importantly, I was in some sort of settlement.
Of course, my less than ordinary senses were also registering several humans.
Oh, I noted with some relief. There are still humans in this world, that's good..
One was close by and several dozen more were scattered further away. Heartbeat, step patterns, taste, smells and a litany of other data which would have threatened to overwhelm me again until I clamped down on that as well.
I groaned as I opened my eyes and pushed myself into a sitting position while hearing a startled grunt, I looked around to take note of my surroundings.
I was inside of a small and decidedly medieval house with an earthen floor overlaid in weathered mats and walls of some sort of wood (my mind quickly supplying that it was a form of cedar), the house was furnished but the table, chest, a bed so small that I understood why I seemed to have been laid out on the ground and what I thought was meant to be a kitchen space hardly counted as well-furnished despite the anachronistic oven which was clearly the source of the meaty smell.
My attention fixed on the source of the grunt, a young child, probably nine or ten at most with her hands clasped over her mouth and pale green eyes shot wide-open in shock, the spilled earthen jug at her feet (and was miraculously not broken by its fall).
Data compiled as I took in the child.
Most obvious were the oddities of the girl's appearance, the gene-alterations that my waking place had made mild mention of.
Muddy red hair and freckles contrasting with pronounced epicanthal folds, to say nothing of the incongruous colour of her eyes.
Other conclusions from her throat musculature indicated some atrophy in her vocal cords which explained the unusually croaking character of the grunt and a host of other observations which would be a violation of privacy in a conventional situation. Most disturbing of which were the series of observations as to her potential as a threat, along with how she might be removed.
Clamping down on that line of thought, I tried to calm her as she was probably either related to whoever brought me there or was monstrously strong considering my enormous body had been moved there from what must have been a considerable distance (the muscle density beneath her worn wool shift making that supposition unlikely). It was obvious that the girl was unlikely to be capable of speech, given her throat, but nothing indicated she was deaf.
And the language should have been fine, provided that the language drift had not been terrible.
"Do not worry, I mean you no harm. Were you the one that helped me?" I attempted to smile reassuringly, only recalling how I sounded as I spoke. Whereas I vaguely recalled my old voice being kindly and reedy towards the end, my new voice was sonorous and… well, not reassuring to a human.
It was a cold and mechanical, even threatening.
I was fortunate that she did not scream, in hindsight.
Instead, the girl steeled herself before shaking her head with a determination that made me make note to forcibly modulate my voice in the future.
It was a good sign that she seemed to understand what I said at least.
I was considering a response but someone else opened the door which was behind me and continued towards the child while speaking.
"That would be me actually," A female voice, contralto to my new ears, said good-naturedly as she walked around me and I got a better look at her.
Before any other features registered, I instinctively ran a threat-analysis.
She was tall, about two meters at a guess (although 'tall' was a relative word, given my state), with the wiry frame that spoke of deliberate cultivation.
The sword sheathed by her hip was worn with habitual readiness, the clink and oily taste of well-cared for chainmail suggested that she was a reasonably practiced fighter in mortal terms.
A warrior then, I assessed with certainty. A competent one at that.
Maybe more than that, the manner of her walk and traces of scarring suggested that she was an irregularly dangerous fighter by mortal reckoning.
But still a minor consideration, the same track of mental calculus concluded that she was not a threat.
All surmised in a heartbeat.
And it was only in the following heartbeat that I picked up on the natural features a human would notice first. The severely shorn, muddy-red hair, pale green eyes and features that matched the small girl, it was obvious by that and her scent that she must have been a relative of the girl. It shocked me to conclude from my evaluation that she was prepared to attempt to engage me if I behaved with hostility, which spoke of either great valor or great idiocy.
It also made me curious.
She picked up the spilled jug and handed it to the girl before nodding down at her and indicating for her to wait outside.
I watched the exchange without comment as I was evaluating the fact that I could in fact dismantle her if the projections in my mind were to be trusted.
Another interesting realization was that she was giving her best attempt to glare literal holes into my head.
It was rude of her, but it was best that I be diplomatic since there was no need to burn bridges.
It was also endearing because it was not difficult to 'read' that she knew which of us would win.
She also wore well-maintained leathers beneath her mail with what seemed to be a large sack in one hand.
Overall they were a rather incongruous pair, the mute child and the warrior. Despite their obvious relation.
It was actually vaguely disturbing to look at them as my senses took in far more detail than I was comfortable with, from the scent of sweat to their heartbeats I could analyze just about everything within a few moments before making my best effort to suppress the feeling before I was lost to it again. I shook my head deliberately and remembered my manners.
I took a moment by my reckoning to evaluate my tone, dredging the criteria for a human voice.
"You have my thanks then, Lady...?" I felt a surge of satisfaction at my bored but recognizably human voice.
Yet, I again seemed to have made a mistake as she snorted.
"Sorry to disappoint, but no lady I'm afraid. Just a Seeker, like you," She said the words slowly, with mild amusement. The way one side of her lips curled upward, meshed well with the laugh-lines on her face. In contrast with the rings around her eyes.
She speaks as if I were a dullard. The thought struck me as funny but she was admittedly not mistaken.
I did not know anything about the world around me after all.
Like the meaning of the word she used to refer to herself.
"What is a 'Seeker?'" My attempt at naïve confusion came across more like a terminal responding to mistaken input than a confused human but I felt some satisfaction at the gradual improvement to my modulation.
And pleasure at the capacity for satisfaction.
It was good to retain some emotion.
My question seemed to not just stir emotion in myself however.
The woman arched a brow when I spoke, her half-smile becoming bemused in a way that suggested I had diverged from whatever she had been expecting.
"Well, this might be more complicated than I expected," she whistled, "That treasure hit you really hard, didn't it?"
I briefly considered whether the dialect she was speaking was the problem.
While written and spoken language could vary wildly, what she was speaking only vaguely resembled the books from my… birthplace?
Yet I was fairly sure I understood her.
Wait… Was I able to workout their language from just listening to them speak while they carried me here? That was an insane notion, but one to be dwelled on later.
I did understand her words, but I was critically lacking in context.
"I do not recognize that word either, could you explain them?'" My voice that time came more naturally, if perhaps still a bit off-tone.
She stared at me for a moment, one gloved hand reaching up to scratch her cheek and making an audible 'hmm' before seeming to reach a conclusion and nodding to herself before speaking.
"You awoke in a big metal place, right?" I nodded, weary of her perhaps reaching a bit too far in lowering her estimation of my intellect. "Alright, a 'Seeker' is what you call people whose coin-making it is to dive deep into those places, 'ruins,' to retrieve the Treasures of the Fallen Ones, the people that once lived within them, we sell those that we can recover to nobles or upstarts who pays enough and sometimes." She pointed the finger that had been scratching her cheek at me with a newly apologetic expression. "Those Treasures can really make a mess of your memory."
I was certain that my mental processes were not quite in line with baseline humanity, I felt inordinate pleasure at the rather mundane thought that entered my mind by her conclusion.
Huh, convenient. I had been placed in a world that not only gave a remarkably credible, if somewhat flawed, excuse for my condition but also one with a stereotypical role-playing setting which apparently included their own version of an 'adventurer.'
It also pleased me to recall what 'role-playing' was, although the impression was admittedly somewhat blurred.
I allowed an audible pause for a moment to look convincingly shocked before nodding slowly.
"So I found something that changed me?" She nodded while smiling with the false confidence of someone who was not quite willing to admit their ignorance on the subject. I decided to push my luck a little further. "Are there supposed to be… things in these ruins? Things that do not seem natural?"
It seemed prudent to ensure that I was not actually on a world that worshipped the things from the Warp, because that would be less than optimal.
Even as I asked the question, I felt my muscles tensing in the slightest ways. Winding just enough to blur into action if the answer was unsatisfactory.
Fortunately, she scowled at that, "That doesn't narrow it down. But I think I know what you mean. You likely saw the voidspawn, they're monsters plain and simple like, travel in packs and will reassemble themselves if you give them a chance. They are the main reason why we Seekers have a living in the first place since they make the ruins perilous and you need quite a bit of experience to fight them effectively." Her scowl defaulted back to a half-grin. "Well, it is more complicated than that and all but I am not really what you'd call a scholar of the void, ask a priest if that's your fancy."
I arched a brow at the relevant part of what she said, "You fight the... 'Voidspawn?'"
I rather liked the sound of it, it sounded contemptuous and demeaning and revolted. Although the english translation would have lacked the snarl of hate in the pronunciation.
She seemed surprised by my question, "Of course, I wouldn't be able to make much of a profit otherwise." She pulled off her right glove and showed me a strange brand on the palm of her hand. "While you need to know how to do it, most figure it out if they do not go mad or become possessed, some like me can fight them much more easily. I… I can't believe I am saying this aloud but the term for those like me is 'Voidbane,' it sounds a bit proud but that is the name."
So it seems the colonists did not get themselves wiped out by their idiocy after all, which if my deductions were correct meant I was speaking to a super-blank without smashing my head into a wall.
I wondered if it was due to my new nature? Primarchs were able to withstand Blanks well-enough as I recalled.
Well, it was a question for another time.
"Well then you have my thanks, although if you do not mind my asking, why did you save me?" Regardless of unique characteristics, it was still a world in one of the most horrible realities imaginable and I did not think I was one to trust in altruism.
"Well to be fair, my Band and I were preparing to venture into the City-Like-Woods when we found your overgrown ass laying by a stream," she chuckled at that, lips pulling back into a toothy smile which revealed slight crookedness to her canines. "We need a guide and I figured that you could give us some directions to navigate it by way of thanks. But I guess that is not a very viable option now though."
"I recall the corridors I navigated to get to the stream, so I think that I can repay your aid yet," I affected as slight a smile as possible.
I spoke perhaps too quickly but I felt that I had little choice, I needed wealth and resources, so it seemed that I had very little choice but to make an attempt at this 'Seeker' profession.
It was strange to act so quickly, to not give time to hesitate and fear and doubt. It was so painfully simple to reach a conclusion and act since I awoke.
The woman's smile brightened further at my quick response.
The imperfections to her teeth gave a sort of pleasing asymmetry to her expression.
"I had hoped that you would say that! Let's get to the tavern and we can fill in the rest of our little group," She said as if to seal the arrangement, I was grateful that she was straight forward enough to not waste time. As I began to stand up, I came to realize why I had been covered in a blanket when she let out a choked cough.
"You might want to try some of the clothes I brought you," She tossed me the sack that she had been carrying. "Wouldn't do to have you waving your bear ass around in public."
Reflexively catching it, I froze with the sack in hand for a perceptible pause as my mind grinded to a halt when I realized what she was saying.
It seemed embarrassment was still intact as I felt something like a blush crawl onto my cheeks.
I had been naked since I awoke, I had walked through the ruin and ran through the forest completely naked and was currently standing naked.
After a very awkward moment, followed by a more awkward and sheepish apology and the even more awkward, but thankfully private, peculiar satisfaction I felt at being able to be awkward. I tried the 'clothes' she had brought with her.
It turned out she just meant the robes made from knitted together sheets that she had had a local woman quickly sow together as quickly as she could which resulted in me looking like an exceptionally big and shabby monk (which I had to admit to myself was incredibly ironic given what I was) before setting off to the tavern.
"How did you manage to get me within your home?" I asked as I awkwardly knelt and slid my way sideways through the door of the small 'house' ('hut' felt rude, if accurate).
"Your neck does not hurt and you can walk straight enough," She said with mock defensiveness as she bade the younger girl goodbye. "So I don't think it's particularly important."
That is not at all reassuring, I thought while subtly incorporating minute stretches into my walk to test for unnoticed injuries.
As we walked through the village I noticed the rampant anachronisms compared to an actual medieval village were everywhere, much like the primitive stove in the house there were simple electric lamps and even some pieces of more advanced technology scattered throughout the homes we walked past.
When I asked her about them she shrugged and said that the more simplistic concepts of 'ancient knowledge' were never completely forgotten by 'our' people.
As we began walking past shops, I inquired after some of the more advanced contraptions such as the distinctly advanced equipment at the blacksmith I saw. She identified them as the result of either knowledge or larger Treasures salvaged from the cities in past times.
Another thing which I could not help but take notice of was that the people seemed surprisingly clean by and large and if not particularly healthy still in far better health than I would have expected from a village this small as my guide indicated that it only numbered a few over four hundred people.
When she commented that I realized that I had made a major oversight.
"I just recalled that I never heard your name, Lady...?" She demured from holding the position but it still seemed proper to attach some honorific to the one that had aided me.
She laughed a bit before answering, almost obscuring the discomfort she evidently felt at the use of the title, "Name's Morygen and I already told you that I am not a noble, my giant friend. Now that I told you what I'm called, why don't you repay the favor in kind if you can remember."
I could draw reassurance for the continued use of slightly different variants of mythological names for the world at least. 'Morygen' sounded like someone could not make a choice between Welsh and Celtic myth for a name before giving up and going with a blend.
"I am afraid that a name is one of the things that I do not recall. If I may however, what offense is there in my calling you a lady?" I knew that it would have been wiser to abandon that line of conversation but I unfortunately suffered from both a strong sense of curiosity and an inability to abandon a line of questioning.
She looked over to meet my eyes while we walked (which I considered mildly impressive given the four feet of difference at least between us) before answering, "You really don't remember much do you?" I shrugged, admitting my ignorance, "Well let me tell you that it won't get you far to go around using unearned titles. I understand you're trying to be polite but I wouldn't go about repeating that to people since they might take it wrong. Don't have the hair to make the words believable anyway."
The last was emphasized with a gentle tug of her short-shorn hair, the meaning was somewhat lost on me but I supposed it related to the rather severe cuts the men and women sported as a norm to my studious gaze (rudeness that was understandably repaid by the mix of gawking and evasion from the villagers as we walked past).
Still... that my attempts at courtesy managed to fly in the face of local customs was not a fantastic start. "My apologies, Morygen, but it does seem that I am unable to remember a great deal."
I scratched my head awkwardly while making a mental note to try to collect more information about the local culture in order to prevent more such errors.
"Well at least your vocabulary was not damaged, so it's not all bad." Morygen said with a chuckle.
It was a pleasant sound, high and lyrical against the depth of her manner of speech.
I offered her my latest grin, "I do not suppose that there is anything else I should know? I would much rather not repeat the same mistake twice."
"Well…" She pointed at a sign hanging from some sort of shop, a square of wood with runic characters painted in gold. "Do you still have your runes?"
I frowned at the sign.
Definitely pictographic, but even the new brain in my head could not work free of context.
That literacy was expected was rather interesting however.
"No," The admission cost me nothing other than the discomfort of not being able to start learning that instant.
"Huh," Morygen nodded. "We can work on that…" She scratched her cheek as she walked in thought, "What else… I am not what most would call 'polite' but I guess I can give you some pointers." She tossed me the glove from before, I caught it and noticed a pattern on the back. I could not easily discern the purpose of the design, although at least one part of it looked identical to the brand I had seen on her hand.
Its composition was interesting, silver thread on fine leather. Valuable and at odds with everything I saw in the home save the stove and mail. The quality of the stitch and weave reaffirming the impression.
"I suppose that there is some purpose to this symbol? It is the same one you showed me earlier," I figured that it was somehow associated with her blank status. I noticed that the
"That would be my guild brand- why are you chuckling?" She stopped and stared at me with a raised brow. I waved for her to continue while attempting to force composure onto my face. I did not wish to come across as mocking but I could not bite back the quiet chuckle.
Frankly, it was the greatest show of emotion I had been able to muster since becoming a semi-inhuman entity. I would not have held it back if I could. "Well if you can contain your need to be an ass, guild brands mark your affiliation with the guild and status as a Seeker."
Plenty of organizations used markings to give themselves an identity, especially ones that had an implication of status. There was no reason to laugh at the cliche-ridden world I had been trapped in after all, or at the sheer ludicrousness of it existing within the crime against reality that was the Milky Way. It made me want to smile.
"I suppose that I would have lost mine," I offered.
"Oh, no need to worry about that," Morygen waved a hand. "These things happen and Sects are not keen on losing Seekers because they lost their brands or names. Ah, 'Sect' is what you call a regional Guild… waystation?"
She nodded as she said the word after hesitating, seeming to find the description to her liking as she committed to it.
"So I might recover my identity if I go to a local guild then?" I deduced. That struck me as a potential problem, my excuse relied on my not having a memory to speak off and so no past to worry about justifying.
"Local Sect, and well, there is a chance, at the very least they can consult with other close Sects," Morygen scratched her cheek again while eyeing me with a perplexed expression. "I hope you don't take this wrong. There won't be much left to match you to."
That was a relief at least as was the large structure we were nearing with a pleasantly broad (if damnably low) door. I caught the heady scent of liquor and the taste of human sweat along with the sounds of men and women making a raucous. I would broach the subject with her again but I needed to find a more subtle method of learning about the world.
"Ah," she said as if to distract me. Perhaps she mistook my silence for nervousness? "Well I am sure that we can figure it out, let's hope you remember how to drink, eh?"
"I recall that well enough," I made my lips curve into a confident 'smile'. Curiosity and enthusiasm as to what food and drink would be like now lent some genuine emotion to it.
The interior of the tavern was a cacophony. Dozens of conversations ringing at once in close proximity would normally not be an issue but my brain could distinguish them all and make sense of them. The rush produced a dull sense of sickness in my stomach, enough to visibly hesitate at the door of the establishment.
I supposed that the sudden silence that crept in with me was a good thing then, enough to let me get my bearings even though their eyes turned to my form instead as I ducked in, my height did not let me fit easily.
The pause gave me a moment to get a look at those within.
At least the mutated mass of my mind was well suited for looking over the group and making some general gains in information. They conformed to my rapidly growing framework for the world that I found myself looking at the stereotypical adventurer tavern. A riot of colors in eye, hair, skin, garb and that was the most uniform feature they shared. One woman had a red lens for a right eye, another had a massive musculature straining under plate that did not look natural and I was certain that I saw fangs in the mouth of one old man. Their arms and armor ran the gamut from boiled leather to patchworks of motorized armor with grinding servos, weapons running a similar range.
Even their expressions went from stupefied to only somewhat interested much like the villagers before.
So much for reducing mortals to tears with the mere sight of me, I observed sardonically.
Morygen followed behind me and made a show of laughing at the men and women within, "Come now, you lot! Can't be too envious at a good find, never knew envy to bring luck!"
Her laugh was met with a few chuckles and interest in me seemed to largely disperse quickly, emphasis on 'seemed' as my senses told me that they had their eyes on me still. It wasn't hostile, just wariness of a potential threat and burning curiosity.
...I would need to move past my surprise at how much I could pick up from a glance. It was terribly close to being self-impressed.
"Come on now," Morygen chuckled by reaching up and slapping my lower back. "No use blocking the door, eh?"
I nodded and fell in step with her, staying stooped to avoid an unpleasant encounter with a rafter. "So this is a Seeker's tavern?"
"It's the only tavern," she chuckled while scratching her head. "It is a good season for expeditions and our reputation for spending too much on drinking is not completely undeserved. Tinta'gile is not even the biggest center near the Ruin."
That seemed reasonable, the tavern only held approximately forty eight people, including the staff. It would have been unsettling for that to form a sizable portion of a caste.
More interesting was the inconsistency in her words though.
"Yet you have a home here," I noted lightly, careful not to push too hard.
Natural instinct aside, the dwelling had been heavy with her scent and she had been looked entirely too at home in the village. To say nothing of her younger relation, such a sedimentary style was at odds with both the image of a pseudo-adventurer and now her own words. Especially if the settlement was not even large.
"Ah, you're right there," she admitted with an awkward laugh. "I have a strong enough gift to do shallow dives on my own into City-Like-Woods so I do not typically follow the seasonal cycle."
The Blank looked sheepish, "You met Ymer, my little sister. A home and a reasonable life are better for a child than following the cycle."
"You keep saying 'cycle' and 'season' as if I would know the term," I pointed out, imitating a light smile. Her evasion on the settlement choice, I let be.
"Just trying to see if I can tug a memory or two," she held up her hands in mock-defense as we made our way down the benches. I noted that what I had thought to be the hill behind the tavern had been hollowed out, the simplest explanation for the size of the tavern compared to its exterior.
"The presence of Voidspawn in the ruins waxes and wanes with the seasons, the difference between finding a Treasure worth a title and getting torn to bits," she shrugged. "I think you came in with the season probably, not really any others that live here year round."
"I think you are right," Well that was technically correct, the sort that wouldn't hold to scrutiny.
She nodded, "Oh! There they are!"
The red-maned woman waved at a table with three of the motley advent-seekers waving in return.
A woman and two men, none seemed particularly old. My mind categorically concluded that the larger man was in the last years of his third decade by human standards while the lankier man leaning against his chair and the robed woman rubbing her thumbs thoughtfully both seemed considerably younger than that. Their only shared characteristics being the red cloth of their scarves lined with golden thread.
The scarves had a meaning, a few others in the tavern had them. I ran the idea against my memory before I could really consider it and realized that the tavern could be divided into approximately three groups.
Silver gloves, red scarves and green tabards. An interesting delineation.
Morygen pointed to me with a confident smile, "Our friend woke up and he has already agreed to guide us, an auspicious start wouldn't you say?"
"Ah yes, my mother always said a naked giant was lucky," The youth said as he rolled his rich blue eyes. His playful tone was at odds with the tension at his shoulders and the sword at his waist was angled as if ready to be drawn at a beat. "Does he have a name?"
"It would seem not," Morygen admitted with a rueful sigh and a scratch on her cheek. "Ector had the right, his Treasure ate his memory."
The big man nodded and put his mug down onto the rough-hewn table.
"Treasures can be nasty things," He said with what I imagined was supposed to be a sagely nod but the man swayed from his drink. "If you aren't careful they can be as much a pest as a prize."
"So it would seem," I offered with a diplomatic smile or the best that I could simulate, a literal giant was never comforting. "But for the time being, my name is of no great consequence."
They gave me looks of confusion while Morygen coughed, "I will explain it to him later, for now let's get some drink in him and plan."
She took a seat and called a passing boy for some name whose meaning was beyond me but I assumed was some sort of drink from the fact that she ordered two. She turned to me and was about to offer a seat before she hesitated.
My weight would rumple the wooden chair easily enough so I sat down on the straw floor beside the table, fortunately the massive size of a Primarch resulted in my still being at eye level with most of them (more honestly, I still towered over them).
…It almost made having to keep a wary eye on the ceiling should I have to stand up worth it.
I picked up some more information from their introductions.
Apparently the three composed a Seeker group that frequently contracted Morygen when the Ruintide (something to be said for double-entendre I supposed) abated in the local ruin.
"A void-bane makes our work much easier," the younger man explained with an easy smile. "And dear Morygen is such fair company."
Morygen snorted at that as two flagons were brought to the table, "He's certainly still slow Ector, thought you'd have worked out the edges by now."
The boy did not seem bothered by the critique as he spread his arms in a gesture of mock-helplessness, "Ah, then I will gladly be a jester if that would please you."
I forced a laugh to match the others before taking a drink of my flagon. The dulled emotions managed to inspire irritation which I in turn had to quell. I wondered what was the reasoning for neutering my positive emotional range while leaving my negative range comparatively intact, perhaps that said more for my 'maker' than anything else.
He could at least have made me able to enjoy the taste of ale, instead I merely found a half-dozen component tastes while my physiology moved to eliminate the poison.
I opted to not dwell on my disappointment and refocused on the conversation to distract from my eternal sobriety and continue building my mental profiles for the small group.
The younger man was apparently a nephew of the elder man, 'Trystane' amused me distantly as his name carried on the unfailing tradition of predictable names. He spoke confidently but the way his eyes went back to his 'uncle' (grand uncle surprisingly enough) in confirmation every few words suggested that he was new to the trade. The more I looked at him, the more I narrowed on his age while accounting for the realities of a roughly medieval world. I would have guessed twenty one at most.
Aside from the swaying and stench of drink, it did not seem like misplaced trust. The man supplied advice and measured words in a manner that implied little could surprise him in the ruins, closer inspection suggested that he might well be older than I had initially thought. Unfamiliar scents and minute hints to his scent and musculature made it obvious.
"I got lucky some years back," he responded when I asked. "Found an old place and came out with a few decades lost for it."
"Would you not prefer to sell such a find?" I asked, I was still uncertain about the details of how the profession made their fortunes.
The assumption that most anyone of means would have liked some revitalization was reasonable. Blurs of my past life, of age and illness, made such an idea personally appealing were it not for my present state.
Although I suspected he shared just a bit of my pain as observation made it clear that Ector's swaying and slight slur were nowhere near as genuine as he let on.
"Not necessarily," Morygen supplied as she answered my query. "If you find something that is useful to survival, being alive is better than a few more coins."
"Arms, armor and physical gifts," Trystane counted off like a student going over flashcards. "You are typically going to keep while lesser examples and other pieces typically sell very well."
I was only introduced in passing to the mousy, raven-haired woman that remained quiet as the others spoke. Curiously, she did not smell drunk, but her pale skin had a red flush to it that one usually associated with intoxication or embarrassment.
"Iseult," She said in a light but disinterested voice when I noted as much.
Curiously, it seemed that the flush of her skin was not due to any sort of drinking.
"Don't mind her," Ector shook his shaved head. "You will not see many that know as much about the Fallen Ones and their oddities. She is a terrible talker though."
"I do not speak for its own sake," She rebutted quietly while eyeing me with surprisingly animated blue eyes before offering a small smile. "I do hope that our cooperation can be fruitful."
"Likewise," I returned the sentiment with a nod.
We slipped back into conversation as I recounted most of my route throughout the ruins and they shot ideas back and forth about possible routes. Their experience showed in their questions, more concerned with the details of possible threats and redundancies than interest in expedience or valuables.
They quickly came to the conclusion that if conditions allowed it, we would return to the ruins within a week's time.
I needed time to acquire some ability to defend myself. At that point they devolved into idle chatter which I found of little use, so I only paid peripheral attention while trying to get a better grip on my inhuman senses.
By the time that Morygen was ready to leave I had comfortably integrated the scents and sounds into neat categories without it fading to memory too quickly.
It was still difficult to couple my awareness to the ready influx of things like the exact hormonal composition in the air, but progress was progress. I was far happier with the amount of data I had been able to collect from observing the patrons of the tavern and my own erstwhile partners to hypothesize on later.
So I was content to just follow my benefactor with the slight satisfaction of progress.
We were past the door before I felt a mild pang of embarrassment and realized my presumption.
"I have troubled you enough," I told Morygen awkwardly, stopping as I was figuring out from my peripheral vision the best way to go for the village outskirts. "I will find a place to stay-"
"You have no coin," Morygen quirked her lips and crossed her arms, evening her stance confidently. "And giant or not, my home is better than sleeping out in the cold."
You would think, I mused as I recalled that one of my 'relatives' was literally raised by wolves, naked in the arctic cold of an ice-planet, without issue.
Primarchs are truly silly creatures, something like amusement sounded in my mind.
I took her point however and it would have been rude to deny the offer, "Then I will not deny your charity."
"Charity," She chuckled but reached up with one hand to scratch her cheek. "That is a funny word, wait until you try Ymer's cooking before you call it 'charity.'"