"Rubbish scite!" Adrian yelled, her greedy and friendly eyes now stone cold and rigid. She slammed her fist onto the wooden desk of the village's headman, causing his cup of Yame Sencha tea tumble and run across the leveled surface. "Are you kidding me?"

          The headman was clearly intimidated as he shook his head no. He knew what she was capable of, but he couldn't let the fact slide that she didn't exactly complete her task. Her first assignment was to bring the couple back from the forest, and despite the girl being announced as dead, her lover—his son—could yet be alive, roaming the forest; trying to find his way back.

          "I'm sorry, Mister—Miss Tancock," he caught his breath for a moment, swallowing a ball of guilt that retained in his throat. "But it is the inevitable; we can't give you the complete payment. I advise you to either accept our offer or search for my son. If you deny both things, fine. Leave the village and continue your pitiful life. Even so, you have to keep in mind that we can easily tattletale your illegal mercenary acts to the kingdom in return of your insolence."

          An uncomfortable tension quickly blossomed and soared the thick air full of sweet incense; vaguely lit by a standing torch, whose yellow, red and orange flames danced with the rich winds that creeped through the colorful flaps of the tent they were reunited in. It almost dared to speak in the silence they beheaded with scornful and skeptical glances. At least it wasn't long until Adrian clenched her jaw and cautiously retrieved her fist from the table, entirely caught up in the headman's caramel brown eyes, whom stared into hers undoubtedly intently.

          The sorrow they revealed of a longing presence of an absent son gripped her every breath; shaking her, suffocating her, making her remember that she was only a speck in the world; with feet, with a sword, with the ability to carelessly kill. It was a slap on the cheek, really, but her selfishness was greater than her sentimentalism for others.

          With a scoff, she assessed the men that stood by his opposite sides, whom tightly held onto lances as large as themselves. Poor them; Adrian could easily take them on with only her poor abilities in hand-to-hand combat owing to the fact that, despite wearing metal and golden lorica segmentata's—a type of personal armour consisting of strips fastened to internal leather straps—they just looked too feeble and awfully humble.

          Cute.

          "Um, yeah. Why do I need to search for him?" Adrian finally retorted, raising one of her thick brows. "The Helheim's dead. If the kid isn't rotting, he's technically fine. Well, um, excluding the original threats: wolves, bears, jaguars... Erm, yeah. Your precious men here can search for him. It's not much of a job. That's what I'm trying to say."

          The headman folded his hands below his chin, closing his monolid eyes for a moment. He gathered confute for the dangerous young adult before him and replied, saying: "Because he was and still is part of your duty, my young mercenary. And if you so much desire the complete sack of derriry, you must search for my son... Please."

          Adrian groaned and let her head fall to the side. Her mature features vanished into more of a childish look, taking in consideration her look of protest. It funnily consisted of a large pout and narrowed peepers squeezed shut. She was still a twenty year old, so in some way, she was yet still a child. But a miserable one, at that.

          "What a drag..." she sighed, hopelessly. "Fine. I'll do the shitty job. But this will also cost you a shine on my blade, got it?"

          The headman bursted out of his chair and clasped his fragile hands together, a grin of yellow teeth saluting Adrian.

          "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" He said, the excitement of his voice obtrusive. "You can also keep the dashiki's we've given you and, most importantly, you can stay at the very same inn. Oh, and—"

          "Hold up," Adrian interrupted in a snarl, her tall height towering over the headman as she neared his desk; the guards by his sides inclining the tip of their weapons at what they understood to be her weak points. "I will search for your son, but only will I do so at sunrise. Your son isn't my center. My center is the price that follows."

          A soft smirk drew itself on her lips, and she set her rather large hand just on top of the headman's glabrous crown. He looked at her quite uncertain, but he nevertheless rose his hands at the guards, indicating them to pull back.

          "That means nothing bad, right?" The headman asked, uttering her to continue.

          "Well, indeed not! It simply means that I will be receiving a prize; even if I don't find him," smiled Adrian in response, rather childishly.

          And heaving a sigh, she rose her hand in farewell, turning on her heel to disappear from the tent; providing its inside with such powerful gale that, with only its caress, caused the feisty flames of the primitive torch to perish at once.

Darkness conquered.

-

Adrian couldn't yet take in that the shallow, fiery sun had been fully accomplished, and that the mint, milky moon had come out with a display of myriad and bright heavenly bodies, vanishing the once murky skies. The azure was stunning with a peculiar stretch of soft and dark blues, on which upon rested a large and spattered archipelago of white hues. But, instead of relaxing under such beauty—having matters already settled—she couldn't help but to exhale a stressful susurrus. Truthfully, Adrian felt as if a heavy boulder had been planted on her shoulders after the deal with the headman. She had something of a routine to follow and he, along with her tenacious greediness, had caused it to go to a halt.

"Fuck me, I guess," grunted Adrian, taking in her second swig of her precious pale ale that, with its alluring copper color, waited to be consumed in a wooden mug. She grimaced at the strong spices and bitter hops that ran down her lusty throat, but just that caused her to continue the drink; in a more guzzling way, at least.

The young adult found herself leaning against the arc's frame of a tavern, from where she had bought her liquor at a good dime. It wasn't necessarily quiet, but it indeed was poor of people compared to what Adrian had come upon earlier that same day; at a time where the sun was yet to bloom and the night's sky was yet to die. She found it funny how such humble-looking men from such affable and colorful village could leave their families to spend an entire night with other vicious and corrupted gent; most likely travelers like herself, at that. But, what could she expect?

Man has a thing for sin.

And there was probably no one that understood that as much as herself.

Peeking her head into the tavern, Adrian inspected the area with a tipsy look and a heavy-growing eyesight. Quickly, a chortle was released from her slim lips at the sight of drunk men with tremendously large beards, dripping scattered mugs, and with robust and flimsy bodies singing incoherent words in dulcet traditional melodies. It was amusing and, most importantly, an invite to her childhood.

          Younger, she remembered herself sitting by bars and laughing at the drunken people's stupidity. It was the best show when they fought, though. They would always break one of the tables, and most of the men would end up unconscious in odd places and in completely comical positions. It was such a refreshing blast to take in those long, forgotten memories, even just for a split second. The disappointing part was, when she was spotted by sober men that, like herself, watched and enjoyed the absurdity, they would point and throw their—a razor blade kissed Adrian's cheek and tried to force itself against the stone wall next to her, but it only caused its tip to shatter. Before it could meet the ground, Adrian caught it.

          "Adrian Tancock!" yelled a female, squeaky voice; words slurred, drunkenly outraged. Adrian knew that it was all an act for attention, though, but this female's wish was granted, causing total heed; total silence.

          Unlucky her, however! Seconds after the small tavern had gone silent with only the soft hoots of nocturnal owls and cries of daydreaming crickets that soared over the drink station and stocked large barrels which, against a wall, stored ounces of young pale ale, did the building fall in laughter and hysterical cackles.

          The girl, with fuzzy blonde strands, amber red eyes and an extremely odd height of about three feet, clenched her evenly small fists. Her decent complexion burned a deep red as she stormed towards the announced young adult; stomping bare feet barely causing commotion when they would meet the complaining timber floorings. How else could she embarrass herself? Her dress' skirt would reveal more than her knees from time to time.

Pity.

          Adrian, bothered in the most horrific ways, caressed her cut cheek as she flipped the small razor around her fingers. It had multiple dark layers of thick leather for a handle, and a poorly sharpened edge. The tip must've been the only thing that cut her.

"Adrian... Tancock," the newcomer mumbled, messing with some autumn leaves that were neatly tied around her forearm. She cleared her throat and looked up at the significantly taller female, just to say in a determined voice: "My name is Flora, and I... I have a mission that may cost you your life, but will give you eternal treasure!"

Adrian stared at her, nonchalantly, for what really seemed to have been a lifetime. But, a laugh soon erupted from her lips, and she proceeded to hit the seeming-child's head with the bottom of her mug. Her heart had truthfully burned at eternal, but she preferred not to believe and continue with a stubborn act.

"Ah. I may seem a little drunk, but I still can reason," she yawned and pressed the side of her head against the frame she yet leant against. "Don't give me even more scite. My day's been rubbish enough already. Go with your parents or... Whatever."

Growling, Flora stopped rubbing her crown, even if it continued wearing a prolonged throbbing.

"For your information, I'm actually older than you!"

"How come?"

The small fry was to reply, but she restrained herself to; pursing her lips as if she shielded a tremendous secret.

Adrian noticed this, but it didn't faze her. She had plenty of other questions for her to answer first.

"Look," Flora breathed when she realized she was losing Adrian's interest. "What I'm telling you is no lie. Know the "Scar of Cohet"? I need someone to take me there. I know where it is, so there is no need to search or-or scavenge. I've met up with many wise people, so there's no reason for us to get lost, too. I just... I just need someone to protect me during the journey."

Adrian rose both of her brows. Of course she had gotten interested. Merely nothing has been revealed about the "Scar of Cohet" to the townsfolk and overall people. It has only been revealed that it is the cause as to why the world has gone downhill. Yet, for Adrian, the Scar of Cohet might just be a silly myth from the envied royals to give out thought and imaginary that the world was once fine and utterly perfect; without Helheims, without too many deaths. She was born into this era, so there were plenty of reasons for her to reinforce that thought. Like, for example: why did no one but only a few contracted defenders and other people like herself kill such large and evil pests?

"Hm... Not interested," Adrian finally lied, frowning. "Look, kid. Erm... Woman. Uh... Flora. I have a mission to complete here and possibly many others to come. That's why I go from village to village, asking if there has been any hassle consisting Helheim's. Also... A lot of people know my name, but not what I do. For goodness sake, how the hell did you come to know my savage acts? I don't even wear my armor in public! And most importantly... How did you know where I was located? Hah! Should I kill you here and now with this... What? Work of arm?"

It was Flora's turn to stare into Adrian's eyes, thinking of a way to get her to agree. She was desperate, scared; haunted by a belief she did not want to accept. But, she felt cornered. Adrian had every right to question her, but she couldn't proceed with answers. Rumor told that she was able to see within lies, so she was able to bring out her hopes from within the sands. Truth to be told, truth shall be spoke.

"Well, I know all of that just how I know that you tricked that Helheim to throw itself off the cliff, while you held onto the roots that streamed down the cliff like huge and thick veins," she began, a devil smile drawing on her lips. "And I know you always do your missions during the night, where no one realizes that other side you use for your greedy needs. And finally and not least, I know all of that just how I know that you made an exception to that very same rule; to search for the headman's son and receive the complete payment, am I right?"

          And even with the humorous moods that the tavern provided with, Adrian couldn't help but to feel defiant.

"Protect you from what?"

"From evil, of course."

          Well played, maggot.

Hello! It's the author, Alani.

If you enjoyed this second chapter, please vote and comment down your thoughts. I find them very precious and, without them, I will most likely not improve—and that's what I strive to do. Thank you for reading though, and I really hope you stick around for more!

Dedicated to colorsofleaving for being my first supporter and to iamrileywinters for the fantastic cover shown above. Check out their breathtaking works, people! Emphasis on the novel Blaze by Colors and Byzantium by Riley. Y'all going to thank me later, hah.

Q: What do you think about Flora?