Garant studied Riniock, their hands still locked in a firm shake. Though it wasn't obvious, Garant attempted to squeeze – testing the young man's strength – but found no success.
Riniock didn't so much as flinch. Instead, he met Garant's gaze with a smug look.
'A friend of my daughter?' Garant asked, his tone sceptical.
'That is correct, sir. I met Linry back at my college.'
Garant released his grip, his brow furrowing. 'College? Not the academy?'
Riniock shook his head. At that, a visible wave of relief passed over Garant.
'Father,' Linry cut in, sensing his shift in demeanour. 'Riniock is from beyond the sea. He's not Ikshari.'
A broad smile spread across Garant's face at her words. He clapped Riniock on the back, his entire stance loosening.
'Well, why didn't you say so earlier? Should've led with that. Never had much love for those academy types…what with the – well, everything.'
Linry cleared her throat pointedly. 'Riniock is aware, Father.'
Garant's head snapped towards Riniock. 'He is?'
'Do not worry, Mr. Lotrielle,' Riniock said smoothly. 'I share your hatred for Iksharis. Save for your daughter, I would kill – and have killed – several of them.'
Garant's eyes widened at the casual remark. He had momentarily forgotten how easily maegis spoke of bloodshed, as if it were as simple as discussing the weather.
But he pushed the thought aside and exhaled sharply, refocusing on Linry.
'So, what brings you here?'
'I came to visit you at the house,' she said, her expression darkening. 'It was turned upside down.'
Garant's shoulders sank as he rubbed the back of his neck. 'So you saw that…How embarrassing.'
'What happened?' she pressed, undeterred by his discomfort.
He sighed. 'They've been harassing Haitenshire for a while now. Taking jobs, then demanding outrageous payments. If we refuse, well…you've seen what happens.'
'How did you know where I was, anyway?'
Linry hesitated, then admitted, 'We may have…threatened your neighbour. She might have gotten the impression we were debt collectors.'
Garant groaned, shaking his head. 'Gods, Elonda. That woman's going to be the death of me. If you really had been debt collectors, I'd be in serious trouble.' His gaze flicked over Linry's robes. 'And with that getup, you certainly look the part.'
'Your face, father…' Linry murmured suddenly.
Garant raised an eyebrow. 'My face? Something wrong with it?'
'No…that's just it. There's nothing wrong with it at all. You've stopped drinking, haven't you?'
Garant let out a quiet chuckle, his gaze shifting away. 'It's been…blimey, I don't even know how long –'
'Half a year now,' Meliona interjected casually as she tidied the room.
'Well, I haven't exactly been keeping track.'
Linry smiled softly. 'You look better. I'm glad.'
A quiet understanding passed between them, both hesitant to say more. The silence was only broken by Meliona's occasional movements – furniture creaking, objects shifting. Riniock watched from his corner, silent as ever. He couldn't recall the last time he had such an exchange with his own family. Maybe he never had. Or maybe he had simply forgotten.
Linry exhaled and wiped away the beginnings of a tear. 'We know where their camp is. It's time we deal with them.' She turned towards Riniock. 'Are you ready?'
Riniock pushed himself up from his chair, slamming his hands against the armrests. 'Always.'
'Then let's move. The sooner, the better.'
Garant's face twisted with concern. 'What in Murat are you planning? You can't just confront them.'
'Father, please,' Linry said impatiently. 'We don't have time to argue.'
'I won't allow it.' He grabbed her arm, his grip firm.
Linry wrenched herself free. Without another word, she strode towards the door, Riniock right beside her, silent as a spectre.
She paused only to glance back, her expression tense. 'I've taken care of myself this long. Today is no different.'
'Linry, please –'
Before he could finish, a voice from outside cut through the room, sharp and unmistakably arrogant.
Meliona rushed to the window, parting the drapes just enough to see the street. She squinted, then gasped, eyes widening in shock. 'It's them.'
Garant yanked her away and yanked the curtains shut. 'Stay away from there.'
'Is it the debt collectors?' Riniock asked.
Garant hesitated, but Meliona's quick nod betrayed him.
Linry and Riniock exchanged a knowing glance and moved to the door. As they reached the inn's main area, a sharp voice forced them to halt. Instinctively, they ducked behind two columns and a stack of barrels.
From their hiding spot, they glimpsed two figures entering – both garbed in robes much like Linry's.
'Afternoon, Haitenshirees,' the man in front bellowed, his voice carrying through every corner of the inn. 'Hope I'm not interrupting anything.' He took a slow, deliberate step forward. 'I wouldn't want to disturb your clientele, so I highly suggest you hand over my money, and I'll be on my way.'
Silence fell over the inn. The air grew thick, heavy. The only sound was the rhythmic tap of the man's boot against the hard floor.
Beside him, a woman stood just out of his shadow – silent, watchful. She barely moved, but her sharp gaze swept the room.
The man's voice rang out again. 'Where's the innkeeper?'
A nervous voice piped up from behind a counter. 'I – I'm here…'
'Our money,' the Ikshari man demanded. 'Cough it up, old man.'
'I – I'm afraid I don't have much to give back –'
The Ikshari snapped his fingers. Instantly, a ball of flame ignited in his palm, flickering hungrily.
'Yes – money – right away, sir,' the innkeeper stammered, scrambling to open his registry. He fumbled with the coins, counting shakily as the Iksharis stood ominously in the doorway.
Meliona stepped into the inn's main area, immediately drawing the attention of the two intruders.
'You, lass!' the man barked, his voice sharp and demanding. 'Where'd you come from, eh?'
She cast a quick glance towards the back room before answering smoothly, 'The outhouse, sir.'
The man's eyes narrowed, his fingers still idly twirling the flame that hovered above his palm. He jerked his head towards the woman at his side, signalling her to move.
She obeyed without hesitation, stepping forward with deliberate slowness, her gaze sweeping the room with razor-sharp precision. No corner escaped her notice, no shadow went unchecked. As she neared the columns near the back rooms – where Riniock and Linry lay in wait – her eyes caught a sliver of cloth peeking out from behind one.
Flames bloomed in her hand as she stepped closer.
'Anything over there?' the man called.
'Nothing yet,' she replied, her voice steady. 'Checking something now.'
The moment she rounded the column, her knee buckled. A sharp pain shot through her, forcing her to the ground. Before she could react – before even a sound could escape her lips – a blade swept across her throat in a clean, silent cut.
Her final sight was a blurred face – a fellow Ikshari, familiar in a way she couldn't quite place. Then, only darkness.
Across the inn, the owner finally scraped together an amount that seemed satisfactory to the collector.
'Much appreciated,' the man sneered as he snatched the weighty pouch of coins.
But his attention soon drifted to where his companion had gone. He couldn't see her anymore.
'Where are you?' he called.
There was nothing but silence.
His gaze snapped to the innkeeper, who stood frozen beside him.
'What's over there?' he demanded.
'B-Back rooms,' the man stammered. 'Nothing of note.'
With an irritated growl, the Ikshari shoved past him, pocketing the pouch as he strode to the far end of the inn, knocking over anything in his path.
Then he saw it: blood.
His muscles tensed, senses heightening. Fire flared around his hands, his instinct to burn first, question later. Without hesitation, he whipped his arm forward, sending a jet of flames towards the bloodstained spot.
A figure shot from the darkness. A ward flared into existence, dispersing the fire with practiced ease.
The collector's eyes widened in recognition. A dark blue robe – he knew what that meant.
'Gorlean!' he spat, taking a cautious step back.
Riniock wasted no time. With a swift motion, he conjured a powerful gust of wind, blasting the Ikshari backward. The man barely managed to throw up his own ward, absorbing most of the impact, but the force still sent him stumbling.
He landed a few steps back, fire already swirling in his palms, ready to retaliate –
A second figure struck from the side.
Before he could react, a blazing fist slammed into his face. The force sent him hurtling through the entrance, crashing violently onto the sand-covered street outside. His landing was anything but subtle – the sound alone would be enough to alert the others.
A voice came from behind. Calm. Collected.
'Take this outside, please,' Garant said. 'The innkeeper has done much for me.'
Riniock nodded. Linry followed him as they stepped out into the streets of Haitenshire, the warm air thick with dust and tension.
'He's dead,' Riniock noted, glancing at the crumpled body slumped against a nearby wall. Smoke curled from his scorched flesh, his hair burned away to nothing.
'I know,' Linry said simply. 'I didn't hold back.'
Riniock studied her for a moment. 'These were your peers,' he reminded her. 'Are you sure you want to do this?'
Linry scowled at the corpse, her hatred burning hotter than the flames in her palms.
'I'm sure,' she said, letting loose a wave of fire.
The body blackened and turned to ash, its smouldering remains curling into the air. The scent of charred flesh carried through the streets, a beacon for the dead man's comrades.
Linry's eyes flickered with unshaken resolve.
'I've never been more certain.'