[b]Hoffen - Illyrica[/b]

The dilapidated tavern door swung open, filling the silent streets of Hoffen with the sounds of laughter and song.  A woman stepped out of the brightly lit establishment, closing the door behind her.  She took a deep breath, scanning the darkened road ahead.  She tugged on her simple sheepskin cloak, pulling back the hood and letting her thick red hair tumble onto the worn linen blouse that she wore with riding leathers and ragged boots.  She smiled as she began to stroll away from the muffled noises of merriment, her belt sounding a soft jingle with every footfall.  The woman weaved through the short village buildings, rapping her fingers on the stone walls as she passed through the narrow alleys and sharp corners enroute to her destination.  

The woman found the end of her small journey at the edge of town, in the tiny ruin of an abandoned house overrun with moss and undergrowth.  It had never been a large building, but it had been made from solid stone, just large enough to house a small family.  However, it was clear that time had eaten away at the integrity of this once sound home, and now all but one wall had collapsed.  The crumbling structure shone in the full moonlight, and the larger plants swayed softly in the evening wind.  In the distance, crickets chirped methodically.  The woman stepped over one of the fallen walls, glancing back to make certain no one was following her.

"Nima?" She hissed, harshly calling to whomever would hear her.  "Nima, where are you?"

"Here."  A man emerged from the corner of the abandoned structure, where he had been shrouded in darkness.  His frame was lean but muscular, a build that had known a mighty share of labour but not as much food.  He was clad in a full-length hauberk of chainmail, with overlapping plates of polished steel wrapped around his legs, arms, and midsection.  His skin was darker than most in Hoffen, with a patchy beard and an unkept head of black hair.  His voice was thick with a guttural accent, but he spoke well enough to be understood clearly.  ”Ceara, did you get the food?"

Ceara nodded, producing a crusty loaf of sourdough bread and tossing it to her armoured companion.  "I ate in the tavern, and now you should too.  We'll leave as soon as you’re ready, I have enough money to buy fast horses."  

“Fast horses…?”  Nima furrowed his eyebrows, confused.  "I thought we would stay here a while?  There are no mercenaries this far south, and the shadow elves have no power in Illyrica.  We are safe here."

The young woman laughed.  "Hoffen is not the place I aspire to winter in, my friend.  This town is too small, too bland.  Don't you want to be somewhere bigger?  Somewhere with a little more than a single tavern?"  She muttered to herself.  “A tavern that’s not a rundown mess, anyway…”

"I want to keep us alive.  Both of us."  Nima pinched the end of his bread, tearing off a piece and eating it slowly.  “Bigger cities attract more attention.  There is a possibility that the elven masters will catch wind of us.”

“Masters?  You're not one of their soldiers anymore, Nima.  You don't belong to anyone, and you don’t have to answer to anyone.  Do you understand?"  The armoured man nodded in wordless agreement, but he seemed to struggle with the concept.  Ceara sighed, smiling helplessly.  "In any case, we can't stay here.  I must have stolen from half the town in that tavern."  She tapped her belt, where several small purses were tied to her hip.  On contact, the leather pouches made a metallic noise.

“That is quite a lot, Ceara.  More than caution demands.”  Nima folded his arms, the metal sleeves scraping against one another.  “What if you had been caught?  What if they notice their loss?”

The thief passed the rest of the bread to her companion, looking over her shoulder with a small grin.  “They might notice.  Might be too drunk to really care.  Better safe than sorry though, right?”  Ceara patted her friend on the shoulder.  “Come on, eat the rest of that while we walk.  We’ve got to get going.”

Nima obliged, picking up a strange, conical helmet and slinging the rest of his equipment over his shoulder.  “Where will we go?  North is dangerous, even more with winter bearing down on us.  War rages in the old Empire, and the eastern lands would sooner sell me back to the shadow elves than take us in.  The roads of Illyrica are treacherous as well, you know.  Just as you saw, these beasts are coming down on folk from all corners of the world.  A walled settlement, like this one, that is the best place to be.”

Ceara rolled her eyes, turning for a brief moment to deliver a agonized groan.  “I know, Nima.  But we’re not exactly helpless travellers, are we?  You, a trained warrior of the shield, spear, and sword, and I, the quick-witted brains of our delightful operation.  Someone should make a song.  The lower classes would probably like it, but I doubt the nobility would take kindly to being mocked so soundly in a melody as sweet as-“

“Stop.”  Nima fell still, literally putting his foot down.  “Where are we going, Ceara?  I need to know.”

The young woman’s wry grin slowly faded, melting into a more serious expression.  “I was going to explain this on the road, away from ears and eyes.  It seems like the whole town is gathered at that tavern, and I suppose you have a right to say your piece before we commit to anything.”  Ceara removed a larger pouch from her belt, marked with a twin-headed eagle.  She opened the top, displaying the glimmering pile of coin hidden beneath the smooth leather.  “I took this from one of those knights, the servants of the sun god.  He was wearing it on his person, spotted it when he sat down with these two locals at the tavern.”  The redheaded thief took a coin from the purse, examining it.  “There is more gold in this purse than the rest of that tavern combined.”

“Where are you going with this?”  Nima shook his head.  ”That money was probably for mercenaries.  You should be glad you weren’t caught - those knights are not the sort that you should seek trouble with.”

Ceara frowned, closing her stolen purse but keeping the coin in her fingers.  She continued to speak, ignoring the easterners caution.  “I heard them speaking, talking with the locals.  They’re holding some sort of feast, some great party to which I’m sure plenty of nobility will be in attendance.  Now, if a single knight is carrying this much coin, can you imagine the wealth that will flow at their feast?”  Her frown faded, and a sly grin reappeared.  “The rich will come from far and wide, I’m sure, to make certain their peasants know how virtuous they are in supporting the honourable order.  Security will be tight, but once we get past that… all of the money?  It will be practically laid out before us.”

“I do not think robbing a military fortress filled with powerful nobles is a good idea.  At best, we will be captured.  I will be sold back to my masters in Rosiland, and you will have your hands cut off.  At worst, they will send us to the abyss.  Forgive me, but this is far too brash.  We must be cautious.”

“You can make anything sound bad, can’t you?”  Ceara toyed with her coin, moving it through her fingers as she thought.  “I’m tired of being cautious, Nima.  If you had your way, we would be living in the stables and eating rabbits for dinner the rest of our lives.  I’m not going to live in the dirt for the rest of my life.  I want to stop worrying about those damn slavers, I want to stop running like a scared little child.  Once we pull this off, we’ll have enough money to do anything.  We can buy a farm or a vineyard, have a manor built, hire servants and mercenaries.  I don’t want to be a noble, and I don’t plan on becoming a pretentious little rich weasel.  But yes, I want to live without the shadow of [i]caution[/i] strangling all the joy in my life, alright?”

Nima looked slightly hurt.  “I am only trying to do what is best for us.”

“I know, its…  Maybe some of that was a little condescending.  I’m sorry.  You’re my best friend, Nima, and I have no doubt in my mind that you’ve saved both our lives several times over.”  The thief spun around, shrugging.  “But just look around.  Don’t you think it’s time we started really living?”

The armoured man did not answer for a long while, letting the ambient sounds of the town replace his silence.  Finally, he spoke up.  “If you truly believe that this is something we can do, then we will do it.”

Ceara broke into another grin, playfully punching her friend on his metal shoulder.  “I knew you would come around, Nima.  Come on, we need to saddle the horses.  I'll tell you what I'm planning on our way.”