Florian had held back his punch, but the man still went sprawling off his chair. His friends took a second to react, shocked by what just happened. After several stunned blinks, they burst from their seats to confront Florian. He just watched the three of them, oddly calm. Dere, for his part, continued sipping his beer, correctly figuring Florian had the situation under control.

“What’s the matter with you!?” Screamed the tallest of the three men.

“I need your friend to tell me everything he knows about what happened to the Queen, and I’m in no mood for any delays.” Despite the tension pervading around the room, Florian sounded rather bored.

“Fuck you asshole!” The man’s other friend, the chubby one, shouted out. He came at Florian and threw a punch at his stomach. Florian batted it to the side with ease and slugged the man in his stomach. The mercenery bent over and vomited on the floor.

The tall one stepped past his friend and threw a jab towards Florian’s face. Florian darted to the side of it and slammed his head into the man’s skull. His body seemed to fold in on itself as he collapsed to the floor, nose spewing blood in every direction.

One of the guards across the room, a young portly fellow who had moments before been enjoying his drink in peace, broke out of the shocked inaction that had kept him immobile. He sprang from his seat and walked across the room, drawing his sword as he did. His path brought him right by Dere’s table.

With a sigh, Dere launched his fist sideways and caught the guard in the gut. The man leaned over in pain. Dere lazily rose from his seat and stomped down on the man’s sword arm, forcing him to drop the rusty blade. “Sorry about this.” Dere said, somewhat genuinely. The guard didn’t even seem to hear him. He was to busy being in pain to notice anything else.

His friend, an overweight middle-aged man, got up from the table with some difficulty and drew his own sword. Dere turned to face him and smiled. “Here’s a friendly suggestion. I wouldn’t.” Dere did indeed sound friendly, but the warning conveyed clearly. The elder guard looked from Dere to his friend and sat back down. Dere kicked the other guard’s sword away and turned to see what Florian was up to.

Currently, he was holding rat man aloft in the air by his shirt. “I’m going to ask again. What happened to the Queen?”

The man squirmed in his grasp. “I...I...I already said. Randas’ host ran into her.”

“Where?” Florian’s incredible anger radiated out from him and focused in on the poor sellsword.

“Uh...uh...uh… Karn… it was by Karn. They ran into a scouting party and were hunted down by a larger host.”

“Where are they now?”

“Fuck man, I don’t know.”

Florian’s eyes honed in. “Are you lying to me?”

Rat face kept struggling against Florian’s Blessed strength. “Yeah... like I’d lie to you right now.”

“He’s telling the truth.” Said Dere from across the room.

Florian shrugged. “Fair enough.” He dropped the man on the floor. Rat face landed on his knees and scurried away.

At once, he and his buddies flew towards the door. Everyone else in the pub watched them leave in stunned terror, terrified by what just happened.

As the three mercenaries hurdled out the door, the tall one drew some unexpected courage and stopped. “You a Blessed, ain’t you? Damn you all, flaunting your power wherever you go! You’ll get yours!” He turned in a hurry and dashed out the door, unwilling to back his convictions with further blows.

Florian didn’t bother with a response. He merely watched them leave in silence. Dere left the guard to do what he wanted and walked up to join Florian. He stood by him for a moment, wondering what to say. “Now, Florian, I’m not exactly qualified to give advice on… well... almost anything,” He said as he watched the three figures get more and more distant through the door frame. “And there’s a certain satisfaction in slugging a stranger in the face, I won’t deny that, but there are healthier ways to deal with anger and loss than bouts of random violence.” Florian didn’t look at him, but his ears, at least, seemed at attention. “If you don’t care. If you just want to punch people. That’s fine. I mean, it’s what I used to do. If we’re being honest, it’s what I still do.” He paused. His tongue, normally so dexterous, struggled to come up with the right words. “It’s just… well… I don’t think that’s what you really want to do. You’re not like me. At least, I don't think so.” Dere shrugged and walked back to the table, leaving Florian alone to stew in silence.

-------------

Dere hated how calm Arlette always looked. It made the anger somehow more unsettling. “What did you do?” She asked him, arms folded across her chest.

“Me? I didn’t do anything. I’m, as usual, innocent… well… mostly innocent. Florian started this whole mess.”

She came down from the stairwell and joined the two of them on the ground floor. Her silver hair was in a rough ponytail, and she had thrown on a simple white robe.

Upon reaching the ground floor, she appraised the situation and fought down a groan. The remaining customers had fled, the barkeep herself had disappeared into a cellar and locked the door behind her. Spilled drinks and traces of fresh blood marred the already dirty tavern floor. “Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes I leave you two alone, and this happens.” Her voice dripped with exhaustion.

“Oh, relax, it’s not how I would have done it. Or... maybe it is how I would have done it, but that’s unimportant.” Dere said, the usual grin twisting his lip. “What is important is what we found out.” Dere had enough grace to let the smile disappear from his face. “Marcella has been captured.”

Arlette’s cool calm, which she wore no matter how aggravated or tired she was, disappeared in an instant. “What!?” She looked around frantically as if she could find Marcella somewhere in the pub. “Where? When? By who?”

Florian, who had been stewing for the duration of the conversation, broke in before Dere could answer. “She was taken a few days ago, near Karn. The man said it was Randas.”

Somehow, Arlette’s pale skin went even whiter. “Do we even know he was telling the truth.”

“He didn’t lie.” Dere said, matter of factly.

She nodded, stunned. “We need to go… now.” Her tone was everywhere, bouncing between her torrent of emotions like a ship in a storm.

“Hold up,” Dere said, palm upraised. “Whose Randas? Where’s Karn?”

Arlette’s mind was somewhere else, so Florian, who had calmed down considerably, answered the question. “Karn’s a few hard day's ride Northwest. Minor city, nothing special. Randas is one of Duval’s retainers. He’s a Blessed of Duru. One of the most powerful of the Earth God’s chosen on the Middle Continent. A great warrior and a brutally efficient man.”

“So, trouble then?”

“Yep.”

Dere ran a hand through his increasingly long grey hair. “Great, just what I need.” There was nothing subtle about the sarcasm in his tone.

“Something wrong?” Arlette asked, with much more open hostility than she had ever used before.

“Maybe there is.” Grey eyes shifting between shades, he met her gaze. “The more and more I get wrapped up in this petty power struggle the less worth the effort it seems. I don’t care about all this meaningless politics. I have something much more important I'm trying to accomplish.” Arlette’s eyes went wide with anger, but Dere’s gaze didn’t waver. “Look, I like Marcella. I’m sure she’d be a good queen, but while your fight and mine have some similarities they are not the same. We should all remember that. I’ll help the girl. I still need her help, but I’m not going to keep jumping through hoops to save a monarchy I've never cared about. Understand?”

Light blue eyes narrowed in quiet rage. “Oh, I understand.” She said. They glared at each other a while more before Arlette looked away in disgust.

She was about to stomp upstairs to fetch her things, but Florian grabbed her shoulder before she could. “What?” She asked, her anger at Dere far from doused

“I know this is a bad time, but it needs to be said.” Florian’s face looked grave. “I’m not sure it’s true, but the man certainly believed it. Lucroy might be dead.”

All of Arlette’s emotions seemed to just drain away. Her eyes looked blankly through Florian. “Okay.” She murmured. Without another word, she turned around and climbed the stairs, taking each step deliberately like she was afraid they would disappear.

Dere and Florian watched her go. A chaotic quiet filled the air between them. “Guess we’re going to Karn, then?” Dere asked, even though he knew the answer.

“Yep.”

“Great.”