Samel had found himself sitting on a hollowed forest log, trying his best to enjoy his rations in the dark. Around him, autumn leaves gently floated downwards around him, annoying him greatly as they occasionally brushed past him, or worse, get caught in his clothing or food. With the fading sunlight peeking through the canopy of the fall forest warning the group of the approaching dusk, Samel once again wished he was anywhere else.
When it came to jobs like this, Samel was the best in the business. Acting as both guides and bodyguards for shady individuals who needed a secure way past a country’s border without detection was his and his mercenary band’s business. The proof in his skill was the fact that he still lived. Hastafians were known to be particularly cruel when it came to any would be interlopers or smugglers.
The group, composed of Samel, three of his lackies, his client, alongside two of the client’s own men, both of them being one of the most generic, mundane looking folk he had ever seen, had been travelling on foot for over two weeks now, breathing in air that made him gag.
He could see it in the air, small tiny orange particles that glinted in the light. Pollen. The stuff that came out of nearly all of the plant life in this damned forest. Just breathing it in made his head nauseous, as if he was hungover.
Despite how well this particular client paid, Samel found the money to be just barely worth it. Avoiding mages who could literally sniff them out from miles away, trekking through mud, rocky hills, and orange forests filled with all sorts of dangerous serpents and reptiles, for days, only occasionally stopping for rest or food until his legs were aching and his body sore from carrying so much equipment. This, the damned pollen and more was all part of the job. Not to mention the client’s attitude.
Even now, the client’s general disposition annoyed him greatly. He watched with evident disdain as his client sat only ten feet across from him. Wearing a heavy concealing cloak and having his two servants, both of them being two of the most generic, mundane looking folk he had ever seen, sit on the ground in front of him as if to protect and cover his front.
Fool. Why bother to go to such lengths to conceal yourself? We already saw your face when you first hired us, why waste the effort? Samel thought.
The annoyance he had concealed for the past week was starting to reach a breaking point. Even as he satiated it through thought, Samel couldn't help but observe and pick away at every little detail from his client. Claiming any reason that would help justify his dislike of him.
Samel had met plenty of prisms in his time, skilled stuck up mages they were, all of them completely unique in appearance and look, but this one in particular took the cake for the prism whose face he’d most enjoy smashing against a rock . Off course he couldn’t actually do that, they were a well paying client after all, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t let that fantasy play in his head as his legs and back still throbbed from so much constant hiking.
The client had Samel and his men march on rarely without stop for hours on end, and yet out of the blue, only an hour after finishing their last rest, one of his servants suddenly demands that they stop and find a place to rest for the night. Normally, Samel would be glad that the employer who was practically whipping him and his men like mules let them rest for a little while longer, yet despite being so keen to rest, it had taken two hours of searching before Samel had finally found an area that the employer’s servants had deemed suitable and fit within their ill defined rules.
Tired and annoyed, yet still aware of the constant potential danger they were in, Samel had sent two of his men to go scout up ahead, while they set up for the night. His men grumbled and complained after realizing that they wouldn’t be able to take a break, but a single look from Samel sent them almost eagerly scurrying into the forest.
That left Samel with only himself and big old Augustus alone with the client and his men, an admittedly uncomfortable thought. He didn’t expect betrayal, but being left outnumbered by three strangers in the middle of the wilderness did not lift the foul mood he’d been having the entire week.
Watching his client made him even more annoyed, prompting Samel to imagine his fantasy become even more violent. He almost felt of mote of satisfaction as his imaginary self started grinding his client’s head against a wall, the friction shaving off the prism’s head layer by layer. Of course for politeness he kept his expression neutral. No potential employer would ever want to hire a man who looked like he’d tear their guts out if given a chance. .
“Your unusually passive face tells me you’re imagining something quite gruesome right about now. Tell me Samel, what has been bothering you?” Augustus interjected.
The old man, large and muscular despite his age, had interrupted his daydream. Something that further pushed Samel’s annoyance further.
“Nothing of particular, simply the stress of the job, Don't read too deeply into things that do not concern you Augustus.” Samel snapped.
“As the leader of this merry band, surely the things that concern you also concern me?” Augustus inquired, his voice calm and even, despite the ragged labored breathing he took on. His rushed uneven breathes taking in even more of the cursed pollen. He was being worked to the bone just as much as Samel was, even in his old age.
You know whats bothering me, why ask? Samel wondered.
“The only thing that concerns me is getting the client to and from his destination safely.”
Almost unanimously, the hooded figure of the client and his lackeys, like a dog hearing its name, looked up directly towards Samel. He could almost hear the butterflies flapping in his employer’s stomach, as if the very idea of someone talking about him was horrifying.
“I don’t suppose you’ll die if I say your name three times will you… what was it, Ican?” Samel grinned, feeling a nearly unfamiliar enjoyment as his client’s two henchmen immediately stood up, as if to create a human shield out of their own bodies.
“Such talk, even if in a joking manner is concerning mercenary. Do not threaten or make our Master uncomfortable again, or else the contract we made with you will be terminated.” One of the men, a man who's almost monotone voice was as generic as his looks. He stood firmly, eyes meeting Samel’s evenly, his hand resting at the hilt of his sheathed sword. If he didn’t look like he had been trudging through dirt and mud and had his black beard cleaned, he might’ve looked more intimidating and less like a homeless man.
Where did his client get two loyal men whose faces were so forgettable, and so easily provoked? Samel thought. Regardless, even if his mild taunting did spark some enjoyment, Samel knew he’d best not push them, so instead he decided to make conversation, as hostile as it was.
“I made a contract with your master, not you, if he wishes to terminate our arrangement, then he’ll have to say so himself. Directly.” Samel responded, popping the final chunk of bread from tonight's meal into his mouth. The bread seemed to melt into his mouth, warm and delectable. Despite how much of a headache it gave him, the pollen seemed to enhance the flavors of any foods he ate, a minor comfort.
Behind the two servants, he could make out his client shuffling, tightening his cloak to hide his already obscured features.
“We represent our master’s will. We are only vassals for his words to reach the outer world. Our words come from him alone, that in itself should tell you to heed us. Our master does not need to explain himself directly to you or any other.” The other servant, the one with the trimmed brown hair, spoke.
Samel could feel a tinge of superiority at that last line, his headache already returning as his anger reformed.
So far, through this entire harrowing journey, his client had done nothing but cower behind his two stewards. What had he done that garnered such loyalty from his servants? Or were his client’s men so mundane and weak willed that they clamored to follow such a man?
Either way, the thought made a vein pop out from the side of a skull. His headache was starting to get worse.
“Then what exactly is your great master’s will then?” He asked, half mockingly.
Both stewards gave Samel a look of disdain, one of them even turning to Augustus, who was watching the quarrel from his tree stump with mild interest, giving the servant a shrug and a look of understanding before going back to gnawing at a tough bit of jerky.
The rightward steward rubbed his forehead gently, sighing before responding. “We have changed plans. Our new destination is only a day awa-“
“What do you mean you’ve changed plans?” Samel interjected, his sudden outburst causing the client, still hidden behind his servants to flinch, giving off a small “Eep!”
“Our destination has changed, there are ruins nearby, it's hardly anything to worry about.” The servant reasoned.
“If that's the case, why have you only just told us this? This just throws off all our plans that we agreed upon when you first hired us!” Samel growled, clutching his throbbing skull, gritting his teeth, as his headache flared up.
“I fail to see the issue, isn’t this more convenient for you as well?”
“Not at all. You think you can just suddenly change plans like this, after days of preparing, you are telling me this is more convenient?” Samel barked.
“Yes, we are. We’ll be days ahead of schedule when we return to Reizen, you and your men will still be paid the agreed upon price, and you’ll be out of this forest within no time. This can only help you.”
“Oh, so you think this is helping me? Before we smuggled ourselves into this dam country, we spent an entire week preparing for everything. The route we would take. Supplies that would be needed. Everything, your master even requested schedule on when we could take a piss break. It had been agreed uponc yet here you are, telling us to throw that all away.” Samel fumed, half rambling half yelling, his voice growling louder and louder.
“Samel, calm yourself, I can understand why you may be angry. But it is irrational to be this angry, especially when-“ Augustus spoke, his voice calm and soothing, holding up two hands towards Samel as if he was liable to start attacking.
“Quiet old man. I have no desire to be calm right now when these three men have been nothing but a sour ripe pain in the fucking ass. They’ve been working us to the bone, trudging us through mud and rock, and then they tell us there's been a change of plan that they’ve neglected to tell us for who knows how long, and they expect us to thank them for it.” Samel hissed, fists clenched.
By now the two servants had stood up, clearly readying to draw their weapons.
“We will not stand for this. If you are so irrational and childish that such a minor thing unleashes your anger then we have no need-“
“Baren, please stop it. I’ll speak to the man.” A quiet voice spoke, cutting through the servant’s, whose name was apparently Baren, words like butter.
Baren almost seemed to jump at his master’s sudden words. “B-but Master Ican, you have no need to concern yourself with this.”
“Well, I kinda think I do, but don’t worry, I have an idea. No interfering from either of you, okay?” Ican spoke, motioning his two servants to stay put, which they did with hesitant obedience.
Samel had never heard his client’s voice until now, and somehow, it felt like he had heard that voice before. From a thousand different strangers, people he had met in passing and promptly forgotten about.
Samel shook his head, his rage momentarily distracted by some strange feeling of recognition and dullness.
He could see Augustus himself had also been affected by some stupor, his eyes having been glazed over before snapping back to attention.
As the client, Ican rose from his seat, his two servants swiftly moved out of his way, parting before him.
Ican, walked forward, Samel could tell he was trying to move with confidence, but the way he almost seemed to jump inside his own body with every step, he couldn’t exactly say he was intimidated.
“So now the great and wonderful master decides that I’m worthy to be ordered and nagged at directly? How wonderful.” Samel remarked, dusting off his trousers as he stood up.
He clearly towered over his client, who was only of average height, and under that dirty cloak of average build as well. The only thing that really stood out was his shard. A black crystal spike that jutted out from his right hand at a sharp angle. It was only a few inches long, but Samel could imagine it being quite the inconvinience.
“Samel Ohega, you’re really angry right now, I um, shouldn’t really be surprised by that. So let me make some amends to fix that. From what I’ve seen, I think you have some real good potential use for me, so I want to keep you around. How about this, after our business in this place is… uh, done, I’m willing to negotiate any price you want as… whats it called, you know, getting paid after getting like, hurt or disadvantaged.” Ican promised, his voice stuttering and pausing several times.
“You sound unsure, you say any price, but I’m starting to doubt you have enough money to pay for the original price.” Samel said, moving forward to loom, over the shorter being. His servants were becoming increasingly agitated as Samel intentionally stood in Ican’s personal space.
The prism was easy to bully, that was for sure. He didn’t doubt that Ican could pay, after all, he had already received half of his payment before the journey, and he probably paid a small fortune to keep his two fools so loyal and protective.
“I-I can pay. Of course I can pay. Why would I have hired you and your group if I couldn’t?”
“Hmmph, we'll see then. If you really mean to reimburse me for the load of trouble you’ve given me, I won’t complain…” Samel said, letting his anger cool as quickly as it sparked.
His client was pathetic to be sure. A coward at heart, even if he was serious enough to come here with little comfort in enemy territory. Samel could at least look forward to seeing the last of them. He doubted that after his outburst they’d be clambering to hire him again.
Ican nodded a little too quickly, promptly trying to excuse himself from the conversation (and get away from Samel) but the mercenary wasn’t so keen on letting him wriggle his way out of their talk.
“Now then, before you scamper back to your babysitters, tell me, oh great master… where is this sudden deviation taking us to then? If not to where you folks planned originally.” Samel leered. He could hear his client audibly gulp before answering.
“After a discussion with my men-“ He began.
“A discussion that didn’t involve me.” Samel added.
“We decided that the ruins of Kazant, nestled between the… Foccan mountains brought too much risk for discovery by the Hastafian mages, that alongside…um, other reasons… we decided to settle on the much smaller, and more safer ruins of a small offshoot sect that worshipped, the Dreamer Zether…” Ican quickly explained.
“And why would investigating the ruins be safer than Kazant, and what are those other reasons? Don’t tell me you plan to keep me in the dark do you?” Although Samel was well aware that his occupation often had him operate on a need to know basis, when information was clearly being kept from, especially from such a skittish mouse, it irked him tremendously, as so many other things did.
“Oh, well… I-I can’t tell you much, sorry, but the thing about these new ruins is that…”