Chapter 1

The skies over (placeholder) were dark with gray clouds, only barely letting through rays of lights on a few select locations. The air hung mostly still with an occasional dry breeze passing by, suggesting a coming rain but promising nothing certain. It was an ordinary day for most, a good day for those toiling away outside to be sure, but not everyone could be so fortunate.

Danica sat upon the well worn bench, watching the bustling activity of the market as men and women of all walks of life were going about their daily business. Sellers cried out their wares and deals of the day as people made their way through the crowds trying to get their needed things and hear the gossip of the day before returning to their lives.

“There’s trouble brewing to the north with the barbarian tribes.” or “What will Lord Rowan do about taxes this year?”

None of it really mattered to Danica now. She was without a home, employment, friends, or even a people to call her own. She had little in this world regarding material possessions and it all fit into a tattered sack slung over her shoulder, save for the worn rapier at her side. Neither rampaging barbarian hordes, discounted property taxes, or any of the other overheard topics really seemed to matter at this point.

Hours passed as she sat there contemplating her life and choices that led her to this point. The smell of fresh baked breads, ripe fruits, and cooked meats carried through the air their temptations. She finally gave into the urge and walked to the nearest stall and parted with a few coins for a hunk of cheese and some bread. The seller, an older woman of at least 60 or a hard 50, was always more than happy for the transaction regardless of the buyer.

She took a few bites of her improvised meal and stowed the rest away in her pack for later. Despite the food satiating her hunger, worry still gnawed at her unrelentingly and refused to let up. She knew all too well she only had enough coin for a few weeks at best, and making it through the winter homeless on the streets was not something she wanted to deal with. She’d seen enough tragedy only a year before during an extreme cold snap to dissuade her from attempting it. The images still haunted her of people and stray animals frozen in place as the snows melted and revealed the corpses they had hidden.

Still though, (Placeholder) was the only home she had ever known and the thought of leaving it filled her with some amount of regret. The people there didn’t really care much for elves, half or not, or really any other race for that matter. Non-human travelers seldom stayed long thanks to the xenophobic attitudes of the people in the region. Despite being a member of the city watch and patrolling these very streets and doing her best to keep people safe, even she was disliked.

Danica made her way through the streets, ignoring the eyes upon her as she went. Some people stopped to stare as it was a rare sight to see her in the day as she had always been assigned night patrols for the last decade. The locals all knew of Danica and most had their tales of the dark elven woman they told their children. Nothing pleasant from what she had heard so far. She had never snatched a child from the bed and feasted on their heart or anyone else's for that matter.

No matter how hard she tried to overcome prejudices in her life, it never really held. Her comrades tolerated her well enough thanks to the rules governing workplace etiquette, but they certainly never seemed to welcome her with open arms. She was well trained with the sword, worked hard, never stepped out of line and brought a certain usefulness to the night watch no human could compete with.

It was a practical use of these extraordinary abilities that gave her such an advantage in the night. Elves, dark elves especially, could see well in the unlit areas whereas humans needed light to guide them. This allowed her to observe the streets and alleys while remaining undetected by any who thought they could slink through the shadows. It was a quality her old commander (placeholder) saw in her and was something Danica herself had felt pride for. It gave her purpose in life to feel like she belonged somewhere and in that she could at least find some amount of solace.

But times eventually change and so did the structure of the city watch much to her dismay. Her new commander was a brash young bastard by the name of Talgee Drummond. He was the illegitimate offspring of some house noble and was afforded a posh and wholly undeserved position by the higher ups. He took one look at Danica and immediately dismissed “the painted elven whore” without any regard to her past service. His words still stung though and no matter how much she tried to shut it from her mind, she could still hear it clear as day.

The crowds of people lessened as she walked on and soon gave way to wider cobbled streets. The buildings were a mix of worked stone and oiled wood reserved for stores that sold higher tier goods to the wealthier citizens and their servants. Horses clopped by, pulling coaches filled with people that considered themselves her betters. She never cared for the reminders of her own financial inadequacies and yearned to be back among simplicity and structure.

She walked to one of the buildings, a gray stone brick front with a large window facing towards the street. She had passed it hundreds of times while patrolling and knew it, and every other building in this area quite well. The sign above stated that it was the Merchant Guild, though she knew it was merely a branch to deal with the lesser affairs of the city. The real powers behind such a prestigious organization rarely strayed from the grand palaces of (placeholder).

With a heart felt sigh she pulled down her hood, opened the door, and begrudgingly walked inside.

The air was warm and scented playfully with a spiced incense like the warm apple treats they served at the Year's End feast. The stained redwood floor shone brilliantly despite the heavy traffic it had sustained over the years. It was cozy and inviting. Danica wasn’t sure if she’d ever want to leave it to face the harsh reality outside this place ever again.

“Can I help you?” Said an older man, well dressed in fine clothes and with a short and neatly trimmed gray beard. He didn’t bother to look up as he spoke as he was too preoccupied with his writing to be distracted.

“I….” She started but faltered, having difficulty trying to find the words she needed.

Quill feather scratched ink on paper in rapid pace until he was satisfied with the current stopping point. He put the pen carefully into a holder and glanced up at the unexpected guest. His features showed a slight confusion at first, followed by recognition. “I didn’t send for the guard.”

“I’m not with the guard,” she said with some regret. Words she had never expected to say.

“Then why exactly are you here?” He pointed his gnarled finger towards her, and the ground. He looked and sounded fatigued and overburdened with stress. Clearly he had little more patience to deal with more work being added to him.

“I’d like to hire on with a caravan, preferably one heading somewhere warmer for winter. The sooner they leave the better,” she said, determination setting in. She had to follow through with this decision and there just seemed no other option.

He sat there in stunned silence for a moment and then scoffed. “You’re either playing some fool prank or you’re mad. I’ve no time for either.” His stern gaze nearly made her wilt then and there.

She sighed and shook her head in denial. “I’ve nothing here anymore. I’m not wanted by the watch now, nor it seems by the people they protected. I want to find somewhere to call home and a place to feel like I belong.” It was true, but it wasn’t easy to admit her feelings to anyone.

His face softened somewhat as he looked at her standing there vulnerable. He had known of the elven watch woman for many years, and even had a daughter nearly the same age. In all the time he never thought about the troubles someone like her must be going through until she stood there before him with hope and sadness in her deep blue eyes.

He pointed to a well padded chair over to the side of the room and told her to have a seat there. He disappeared to the back room, leaving her to look around at the collection of assorted decor associated with the merchant guild. A large bronze scale dominated the center of the wall, flanked on either side by well worn and yellowed maps. Various dusty tomes lined shelves, lending the room a look of distinguished splendor.

A moment later he came from the back room carrying a large serving tray and set it down on the table in front of her. The two mugs were filled with a steaming brownish tea that gave off the spicy aroma she had smelled earlier and between them sat a plate with a small assortment of cookies.

She sat there not moving, staring at the tray as if unsure of what was going on. A moment later he understood why and a deep ache of sadness filled his heart. “The tea is for you. It’s usually reserved for the holidays but I didn’t care to wait that long.”

“Thank you. It smelled wonderful.” She took a drink and savored the spicy tang and the sweet taste of honey.

He sat opposite from her and nodded. “I’m not from here, so I don’t harbor the resentment most around here do. There’s still some folks that have bad blood from the war despite most of the participants from it being long dead from age.” He motioned to the cookies and told her to have some. “They're going to go stale if we don’t finish them off.”

She took one and bit into it. The buttery smooth texture almost melted in her mouth, leaving bits of apple to chew. It paired extremely well with the spiced tea.

“I’m going to be honest with you,” he said, pointing at her. “You’re a woman”

She stopped and looked at him somewhat confused. “I am… aware of that.”

“Indeed.” He took a sip of the tea and cleared his throat. “Sending you along with a bunch of rowdy degenerates would be rather… well you understand I’m sure. It’s not like here where a man out of line could be flogged for his transgressions.”

“I’ve dealt with a few unwanted advances,” she said confidently. It had been, honestly, more than a few. She may have been hated for her elven heritage but she had been lusted after by fools that had imbibed too many drinks and now saw her as a potentially exotic tryst.

“I’m sure. Well you can imagine how much worse it will be away from civil society.” He remembered what she had said earlier. “Well mostly civil. Still, I know of you and I know that thanks to you, we’ve seen a sharp decline in theft. The high command may strut around like roosters, but I know who was really responsible for it.”

It was so unexpected to hear something like that from anyone. The only time she had ever been acknowledged with anything like praise was when (placeholder) had mentioned a job well done and those moments were few and far between. The hospitality and compliments were a combination too much and just barely, a trickle of emotion welled up from within and made its way out of her usually unshakable facade.

A single tear ran down her cheek, leaving a line of moisture over the soft lavender skin.

He pulled a small white napkin from his pocket and handed it to her. She wiped away the tear and satisfied no more were coming, attempted to hand it back. He declined, indicating she should keep it, but he did note that despite wiping her eyes, the white cloth remained unblemished by makeup.

“Curious,” he quietly mumbled under his breath. Had she heard him, she didn’t indicate it.

“I apologize. It’s been an overwhelming day.”

“No need for apologies,” he said, setting his drink upon the table. “There’s a group leaving in just a few days heading to (placeholder). I believe it to be an ideal location. The caravan master, Jarmon by name, is rather difficult to work with unfortunately. I’m loath to send anyone with him, but the pay is rather good. Are you sure this is what you want?”

Danica nodded her head and agreed that it was.

“Alright. If that’s what you want then I’ll set it up for you.” He stood and walked back to his desk “I’ll wish you the best of luck wherever the road may take you.”