The Lone Wanderer

At first, the townsfolk stared at the ill-begotten tatters of silk in stunned silence. Over the next two minutes, Percy watched the colour drain from their faces, their eyes widening with panic. But still, nobody dared to utter a sound. It wasn’t until another minute later that somebody finally broke the oppressive stillness.

“What have you done?!” a man cried, his voice quivering.

“Those cursed life-suckers will have our heads!” another shouted.

Like a spark igniting dry tinder, the second voice set the crowd alight. Mutters and whispers rippled through the gathering. Many of the residents covered their mouths as they spoke, some casting nervous glances at Percy and Nesha, while others pointed at them with trembling fingers. Soon, their fear began to transform into quiet accusations.

“Everyone, calm down!” Fegan raised his hand, causing the chatter to die down.

Then he took a step forward, approaching Percy.

“Young man… While I’m sure you have a lot to tell us and, believe me, everyone here is dying to hear you out, there are a couple things I’m going to need you to clarify beforehand.”

Percy didn’t say anything, merely nodding at the old man to speak.

“Is the owner of those clothes dead?”

“And is it safe to assume the other nobles who disappeared over the past few months are too?”

“Naturally. Or did you think they’d gathered together to have a year-long picnic in the swamp?” this time it was Nesha who pitched in.

Percy glared at her to drop the sarcasm. Sure, it was a dumb question, but they wanted to win these people over, not to antagonize them.

‘Where did the outburst even come from? Is she still pissed off at them for nearly getting her killed last year?’

Either way, if Fegan took any offense, he didn’t show it. He cleared his throat before speaking again.

“May I ask how this is possible? Don’t take it the wrong way, but I don’t think the two of you could have accomplished all this by yourselves.”

“We aren’t alone.” Percy replied with a half-truth. “As for the details, trust me, you’re better off not knowing them.”

The old man nodded, clearly sharing the sentiment. He was about to say something else, but somebody from the crowd butted in again.

“We should hand them over!”

“That’s right! Maybe the nobles won’t blame us if we distance ourselves from this!” somebody agreed.

Hearing them, Percy carefully scanned the crowd, trying to discern the prevailing opinions. A few of them nodded along with the men who’d spoken, too scared to defy their masters. But the majority grimaced or clicked their tongues instead, evidently not as fond of their overlords. It was one of them who spoke next.

“You idiots! Can’t you even recognize what’s good for you?! How many of our people died this year?! Zero!” Mr. Dylan said, vouching for Percy.

And he wasn’t alone.

“Yes! I can’t believe your first reaction is to sell your saviours off to those bastards! We should be building statues of them, not stabbing them in the back! You should all be ashamed of yourselves!” a woman yelled, berating her neighbours.

The faction opposing Percy didn’t give up though.

“You’re acting as if they’re doing this for our sake. This is nothing more than a war between two noble Houses – and we’re the ones caught in the middle. I’ve no clue who’s going to win, but I’d rather not piss off the people who own us.”

The heated debate continued for a few minutes, as men and women from both sides argued with one another. At times, Percy was tempted to defend himself, but he ultimately held back. He figured it was best to let them speak their minds first, getting everything out there before making his case.

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Eventually, it was Fegan who cut the discussion short.

“Ok, that’s enough. We’ve heard both differing opinions, but Percy and Nesha have yet to tell us why they chose to come forward today.”

He turned to Percy, looking him in the eye for a second before continuing.

“Young man… I admit we got off on the wrong foot all those months ago. And I was the one at fault. You’ve done a lot of good for our town – whether it was your intention or not – but you’ve also kept many secrets from us and put us all at risk. Would you care to explain what you’re trying to accomplish?”

“What’s there to explain? I’m glad my actions have improved your lives, but I admit that wasn’t my goal in coming here. I have my own reasons for targeting House Tantalus. Like some people have said, you all just happened to get caught in the middle.”

“So, why tell us now? And what are you going to do next?” Fegan asked. “Are you leaving?”

“Honestly, I’d have kept it a secret if I could. Sadly, it wasn’t an option this time. But no. I’ve no intention of going anywhere. Though, that will depend on your stance.”

“This is madness!” somebody interrupted. “They’ll get us all killed!”

But Mr. Dylan slapped the guy to shut him up.

“Just let him finish.”

Seeing hundreds of pairs of eyes return to him, Percy continued.

“I’m not asking you to help us, nor to fight House Tantalus alongside us. Just pretend you didn’t hear any of this. Let us keep doing what we’ve been doing in secret. That’s all we want.”

“Can you guarantee House Avalon will win?” Fegan asked.

Percy shook his head.

“Naturally not. But what difference does it make? We’re the ones taking all the risk. If we lose, we die. Nobody will blame you. Not to mention, regardless of whether we win or lose, every person with the Drain bloodline we kill is one less person slaughtering your loved ones in the years to come.”

“Basically, you only need to keep your mouths shut.” Nesha jumped in. “Simple enough?”

More chatter ensued, as the two sides argued some more, before Fegan ultimately put the issue up for a vote. In the end, the side supporting Percy and Nesha won by over 300 votes to the opposition’s 25. It was an overwhelming victory – which made sense, really. The townsfolk didn’t have much to lose by covering for them. Like Percy and Nesha had said, all they had to do was literally nothing, and they’d come out ahead either way.

That said, 25 people were plenty enough for somebody to do something dumb and screw things for everyone. Keeping her bloodline a secret, Nesha took the opportunity during the discussions to pick those people off one by one, discreetly asking them a couple of questions here and there, to determine whether they intended to behave.

“Well?” Percy asked once they were back in their house.

The girl shook her head.

“Like I told you, it’s impossible. I’ve identified at least 5 people who I’m confident will screw everything up. Unless you want to try assassinating them, we should get the hell out of here.”

But Percy grinned.

“We aren’t going anywhere.” he said, causing Nesha to raise an eyebrow. “Obviously, there was always the chance of things turning out this way. But we can make it work in our favour.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t sure if House Tantalus would continue throwing people at us after losing Broose. Too much risk, and too many unknowns. But what if they had a clearer idea of what they were getting into, and even thought they were going to catch us off-guard?”

“You’re intentionally baiting them over! You want people to snitch on us!” Nesha realized.

“Well, no. It would have been simpler if they could just do as they were told. It’ll be much harder to lure the Greens over to the swamp like this. But we can give them a warm welcome here – in the town – instead.”

Nesha gave him a long look, seemingly reevaluating the person she’d chosen to follow. But she didn’t say anything. They’d already discussed several aspects of Percy’s plan. The only thing left was to piece everything together.

Percy didn’t speak either, instead grabbing the sewing kit Mr. Dylan had generously given him earlier. Honestly, Percy had wanted to pay for it, but the man had refused to accept any money. He’d even offered to waive the cost of the pig iron in their future dealings, though Percy wasn’t planning to continue posing as a blacksmith now that their cover was up. Micky provided them with more than enough food to get by, and they no longer needed to hide their money either.

Threading the needle, Percy then lifted his shirt, trying to stitch one of the nastier cuts the potions had failed to close. Having grown in a house full of life users, and then spent half a decade in a place where one could easily buy healing potions, Percy had never learned how to apply basic first aid.

But how hard could it be?

Yet, the moment he was about to pierce his skin, something strange happened. It was almost as if some primal instinct took over, guiding his hand forward. Before he even realized what was happening, he’d finished patching his wound up – adding 7 stitches in total.

‘What the hell? This was easier than I thought it’d be…’

Thinking of something, Percy then took his shirt off, examining it closely. His fight against Broose had left it full of holes. Perhaps he was better off just buying a new one, but walking around in patched rags would better sell the image of a harmless peasant. Either way, there was something he wanted to test.

Passing another linen thread into the needle, he began working on his shirt, allowing the same strange feeling to overcome him. Percy had never felt anything like that before. It was almost like he finally found his true calling after a lifetime of searching!

Not even a minute later, he was done.

Staring at the formerly banged up piece of cloth, he marvelled at his handiwork. One could still spot the stitches if they looked closely but, overall, the shirt had been repaired near-seamlessly. Not just that, but Percy had accomplished this with the speed and efficiency more befitting of a master tailor than an amateur.

Growing more and more certain of his guess, he opened his Status again. As it turned out, he wouldn’t have to wait that long for his answer…

Spectral trait:

• [Weaving]

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