Chapter Text
Ironeye had planned on throwing the note away.
He should have done it right then and there, but that would have been rude. Besides, the two strangers had been helpful in tracking down the dog-turned-beast.
He’d been doing some personal investigating; looking into a string of strange occurrences happening around town. It had been his first non-Fellowship job since arriving in Limveld, though he’d barely count it a success. The final blow was dealt by a kindly old woman, after all.
In the end, the information was still useful though. All information was. He added it to his mental catalogue of bizarre happenings in this cursed city and moved on.
It wasn’t until he’d arrived home that he remembered the small piece of paper folded neatly in his pocket. He should have thrown it away then, and never thought about them again. He could’ve worked on his research, found some jobs, and gone about the rest of his week in peace.
Instead, he opened it up and took in the neat, looping cursive.
The Roundtable Hold
305 N. Grace St
Only the name and address were provided; no date or time had been specified. The woman–Duchess was her title, apparently–had said just to show up whenever. Ironeye frowned. How would he know when they’d be there? Surely she hadn’t given a stranger her home address.
It didn’t matter though, because he wasn’t going to show up. He was going to throw away the note, and go to bed. In the morning he’d make his tea and call Isolde, and that would be it.
And it was, at first. Until, for some god forsaken reason, his dear friend and former custodian looked him in the eye over their video call and said:
“I think you should go.”
Ironeye paused with his mug halfway to his lips. “You what.”
The older woman hid a small smile. Isolde always got a rise out of torturing him.
“You should go find these people, the ones who saved you,” she said.
“First of all, they didn’t save me—stop making that face, I would have been fine on my own. And second of all, why would I ever do that? We work alone.”
Isolde hummed. “Children of the Fellowship work alone,” she said with a soft smile. “There’s no reason now that you shouldn’t seek allies in an unfamiliar city.”
Ironeye bristled. She knew his departure from their organization was a sore subject. Technically, they weren’t even supposed to be in contact with each other anymore. It was her idea to go behind the Fellowship’s back to keep in touch. In his annoyance, he was beginning to regret it.
“Fine. I’ll consider,” he acquiesced, if only to get her to move on to another topic. He was eager to leave this whole mess behind him.
They continued to talk for some time, trading information about targets and contracts, until it was time for both of them to leave. Ironeye signed off and powered down his laptop as he pulled out his most recent research, putting their conversation to the back of his mind.
He wouldn’t look at the note again until a week later, as he sat with papers strewn about and notes covering the table in front of him.
His most recent job had hit a dead end, and he was stumped for leads. He simply didn’t know enough about this city and its inhabitants to make any good guesses. He turned over an annotated map, tracking his progress again. As he did, his eyes trailed past a familiar street.
N. Grace St.
He traced his finger along, following the line until he hit the 300 block. Isolde’s suggestion replayed in his mind.
Allies in an unfamiliar city.
He sighed, and at that moment the decision was already made. His custodian’s intuition had always been a miraculous thing, after all. He tugged on his jacket and boots, strapped his bow to his back, and grabbed his keys.
~
Wylder was sandwiched between Guardian and Recluse as they engaged in an animated conversation, and was quite frankly wishing he’d chosen a better seat for the night.
The former was gesturing widely with one arm, and Wylder was pretty sure he might end up with feathers covering him if this kept up. Meanwhile, Recluse tended to accidentally jab him in the side with her elbow every time she got too excited about the conversation.
Gods, his ribs hurt.
It didn’t help that he was still bruised from last week’s tussle with those hellhounds. There was a deep purple mark where one had sunk its teeth into his side, which refused to fade as the days went on.
Still, all seven of their group had made it to the diner tonight for celebrations and copious amounts of late-night breakfast food. Spirits were high, plates were full, and cheers danced through the air. He couldn’t complain.
Duchess still had the envelope of cash they’d received from the old woman, and even after they paid tonight’s tab there would be more to spare. It wasn’t long after they messaged their group with the promise of “food on us” that everyone had arrived at the Hold.
Wylder was preparing himself to dodge another faceful of feathers when he first felt something odd. The hairs on his arms stood up, and his instincts set off a strange sensation in him. It didn’t take long to place the feeling of being watched, and he craned his head around to inspect the rest of the diner.
His gaze made its way to the front door, and he realized with a start that he recognized the man standing awkwardly in the entrance. Piercing blue eyes met his, and he straightened in his seat.
Duchess, perceptive as always to her brother’s behavior, noticed him looking over her shoulder and turned to see what the commotion was. Her smile was blinding.
“Ironeye!” she exclaimed, jumping up with a wave. The man in question looked like a deer in headlights.
Soon enough she was scrambling out of their booth, with Wylder squeezing past Recluse to follow after. She nearly ran over, and greeted him with another excited wave.
“You came!”
Ironeye nodded slowly. “I figured I should. Besides, reviews say the food is good here.”
“It is! And the whole group’s tab is on Wylder and I tonight.”
Ironeye barely got out the word “Group?” before Duchess was pulling him by the arm to the back of the diner. At their booth, everyone had turned to look curiously at the newcomer, who once again looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.
“Don’t worry,” Wylder said to the archer as they arrived, “they don’t bite—at least most of them. We’re not sure if Revenant has rabies or not.”
This earned him a middle finger from Revenant and a punch on the shoulder from his sister.
“Everyone, this is Ironeye. He helped us with that contract we told you about last week,” said Duchess.
They went down the line with introductions, giving a small spiel about each member’s skills and talents. The group seemed content enough to welcome a new member, especially one that the siblings had vouched for.
“—there’s Revenant, who does not have rabies and is a prodigy with faith incantations. Executor is our katana specialist, and he—well, it’s hard to describe. You’ll see it one day. And last but not least is Wylder, who you’ve already met.”
Ironeye turned to him, and Wylder could feel the weight of those intense eyes once again.
“Ah, yes,” Ironeye said with a crooked smile, “I remember one of the wolves using you as a chew toy.”
All at once, the table erupted in uncontrollable laughter and Ironeye’s acceptance into their party was instantly solidified.
“Oh, I like him!” Raider managed to get out between howls. Wylder’s cheeks flamed.
“Yes, yes, it was so very hilarious. Can we move on now?”
Ironeye cracked a genuine smile for the first time that night, and offered a quiet apology to Wylder as he took a seat.
Wylder would have followed suit, but the memory of being “used as a chew toy” (as Ironeye had so eloquently put it) was making the bruises on his ribs ache. That, combined with the loud conversation forming, was not helping the migraine that was beginning to brew.
He put a hand on his sister’s shoulder, and leaned over once he had her attention.
“I’m gonna get some air,” he said quietly. She gave him a sympathetic nod.
“I was right, by the way,” she whispered back, jutting her chin in Ironeye’s direction. Wylder gave her a look of confusion.
“He’s cute under the mask.”
Wylder rolled his eyes at that, but by the time he had walked out back and leaned against the cool brick wall, he was still thinking about a certain pair of bright blue eyes. His cheeks flushed again.
Fine, he could admit it. Underneath the hood and mask and overall weird vibes, Ironeye was…handsome. He had an angular face, framed by thin strands of hair that had fallen out of its tie. There were scars visible there too, though faded with time. It was no stretch to say he was an attractive man.
Wylder remembered his hands, quick and practiced on his bow as he let loose one arrow after another. Honestly, the battle prowess did more for Wylder than anything else. What could he say? He liked competency.
Wylder could hear another round of cheers come from inside, and smiled to himself. It seemed he’d be seeing more of Ironeye after all, if the rest of the group had any say in it.
A breeze blew through the street, and Wylder closed his eyes. The cold night air surrounded him, and it wasn’t long before he was feeling better. He loved his friends, but damn did they get loud. They knew not to take his absence personally though, and he’d be back in there soon enough.
As he listened to the crickets, that strange sensation of being watched returned. He cracked an eye, only to see Ironeye himself walking towards him. The archer paused suddenly, before making his way next to Wylder.
“I’m surprised you heard me,” he said, mirroring Wylder’s pose against the wall. “I have a tendency to accidentally sneak up on people.”
“Oh. I didn’t, actually.”
Ironeye raised an eyebrow.
“It's an instinct thing, or something like that. I don’t know,” Wylder said, trying to explain the feeling. His sixth sense wasn’t something he could easily describe. “Hard not to feel someone staring with eyes like those though.”
This got a laugh out of Ironeye, who chuckled and scrubbed a hand over his face.
“Wow, you remind me of an old friend of mine,” he said, sighing wistfully. “She used to say they glowed in the dark.”
Wylder tilted his head then, face serious as he studied Ironeye’s face. Ironeye stilled under the scrutinization.
“Hmm…”
“What?”
Wylder grinned. “...She might be onto something, actually.”
Ironeye scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say,” he replied with a smile, and reached into his jacket to pull out a cigarette and lighter. Wylder gave a slight grimace at the sight, but didn’t stop him.
“Those things’ll kill you, you know,” he said as Ironeye lit it and took a drag.
“You know what else will kill you?” Ironeye deadpanned. “Jumping face-first into the jaws of a giant wolf.”
Wylder groaned. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
“Nope.”
“Well you—” Wylder turned to face Ironeye and deliver a clever jab of his own, but stopped short.
The man was watching him expectantly, a playful smile on his lips as he held his cigarette loosely in his fingers. There was a small, faded scar at the corner of his lips that moved when he grinned, and Wylder couldn’t take his eyes off it. Had they always been standing this close?
“I what?” Ironeye laughed, and Wylder could swear he felt the breath against his lips. His mind went silent, and he couldn’t for the life of him remember what he’d been about to say.
Ironeye’s gaze trailed down his face, creeping its way down to his lips, and Wylder suddenly regretted his teasing. He could feel his face warming, the air growing colder against hot skin.
He couldn’t tell if either of them were leaning in, but suddenly the space between them seemed so small. It would be so easy, so simple, to just—
Wylder’s hand was halfway to Ironeye’s face when an overwhelming urge flooded every single cell in his body, screaming one single word at full volume:
RUN.
There was no time to think. He grabbed a fistfull of Ironeye’s jacket, ignored the strained yelp that emerged from the other man’s mouth, and yanked him to the side as hard as he could.
There was a deafening BOOM, and a flash of purple light that left spots in Wylder’s vision. His ears rang, and he winced as his eyes opened to see the spot they’d been standing in moments ago.
There, crumpled against a smouldering crater in the brick wall, was a colossal figure writhing with rage. It was covered in thick, black scales and leathery skin. As it stood, it opened its mouth to reveal endless rows of razor sharp teeth, glistening in the dim light. A screech bubbled up from the back of its throat, and it unhinged its jaw to scream in full agony. Purple lightning crackled and pulsed around it, arcing through the air.
“What the fuck is that?” Ironeye said from where he’d landed. The two of them scrambled backwards, putting as much distance as possible between them and the creature.
Wylder shoved Ironeye towards the door. “Go, get the others!”
Ironeye didn’t need to be told twice.
There was another screech, and Wylder turned just in time to dodge another incoming charge of snapping jaws. He rolled out of the way, jumping past the line of attack and whipping around to face the creature.
It unfurled bony wings, spreading them and illuminating the dark street with purple energy once more. Wylder watched as it pulsed once, twice, twisting into the air, before lunging down at breakneck speed.
He was barely able to avoid being completely snatched up by gnashing teeth, and his leg caught a wicked slash as he jumped to the side. As he rolled, pain shot through his thigh and he sucked in a gasp.
His leg was bleeding now. Badly. He could feel warm blood soaking through his pants, and as he stood he swayed too much for comfort. He reached for a flask, only to realize all his equipment was inside.
The monster had crashed into the pavement, carving up the concrete as it slid across the street. Distantly, Wylder could hear the panicked sounds of people evacuating the diner. Good. His friends would be getting people to safety, and all he’d have to do was stall until they arrived.
The creature seemed to have the same idea though, and Wylder watched in terror as its head jutted towards the sound of others.
He had no weapons on him, but it was easy enough to swipe a piece of rubble and launch it as hard as he could towards the creature.
“Over here stupid!”
Snapping jaws whipped back around to face him, and Wylder sighed in relief. It was short lived though, as he attempted to take a step backwards only for his injured leg to buckle under him. He howled in pain as he collapsed, hitting the ground with a thud.
His head was swimming. Dully, he was aware of streaks of purple electricity crackling around him as a massive black shadow shot through the air. He tried in vain to stand, but it was no use. He closed his eyes, waiting for the strike—
But the hit never came.
Instead, he opened his eyes to a loud bang as Guardian’s giant shield took the brunt of the strike. The pinionfolk stood his ground, bracing above Wylder and throwing his weight into the guard.
A beam of dark energy shot through the sky above them, and Wylder realized with relief that it was coming from Revenant’s summoned skeleton. Someone brought a flask to his mouth, and in moments his head was clearing.
Duchess stood over him, checking for more wounds.
“You alright?”
Wylder grinned. “Never better,” he said with a dry laugh.
She helped him to his feet, and next handed him his gauntlet and explosive pike. He strapped it to his left arm and nodded in approval to her, before the two wordlessly split off.
Duchess ran into the fray, daggers glowing bright blue as she weaved between attacks to jab the beast’s underbelly. Around her, Raider slammed his axe into its thick hide, while Executor parried the swipe of its claws.
After landing several successful blows, Executor slammed his sword down and erupted in a fiery golden glow. His body transformed into a large, four legged beast, and he lunged forwards with his claws.
Wylder felt a familiar presence at his side, and turned to see Ironeye staring wide at the scene in front of them.
“Ah, so that’s what he does.”
Wylder chuckled.
“Hey, cover for me?” he said, and Ironeye nodded quickly, pulling out his retrieved bow.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” he warned.
“No promises!”
Wylder broke into a run, evaluating the fight around him. He’d need to scope out the perfect moment to strike, get in quick, and take his shot. If he didn’t time it right, he was sure the monster would be able to get a nasty hit on him, and he wasn’t sure how he’d fare.
Ironeye and Recluse were doling out damage from afar, while Raider and Guardian continued to pummel the creature whenever it flew past to attack. All he had to do was keep his guard up until the right moment…
There!
Raider had landed a particularly strong hit right to the creature’s head, and it had staggered back in pain.
This was it. Wylder launched his clawshot, letting it sink into the creature’s skin and pulling him through the air. The momentum carried him just far enough to slide forward on his knees until he was tucked underneath the creature’s chest, and he reared back his arm and activated his pike with a metallic click.
The resulting explosion sent a fiery shockwave outwards, temporarily blocking out all noise as his ears rang. As the smoke cleared and the sounds of cheers faded back in, he could see the creature finally slumped over, motionless.
Its body convulsed grotesquely for a moment, before erupting into a plume of thick, dark smoke, and dispersing around them. In its place remained only rubble and tiny traces of purple electricity.
A hand clamped down on his shoulder, and Wylder turned to see Ironeye looking down at him. They clasped arms as he helped Wylder to his feet, and soon the rest of the group was gathered in the center of the street. A quick check and distribution of flasks ensured that nobody was left severely injured, and the eight of them were able to make their way back towards the diner.
Miraculously, nobody else had been hurt—though the outside of the diner was now in desperate need of repair. They checked in with the staff of the Hold, waited for the authorities to show up, and quickly gave their statements.
“I, for one, am going to go home and sleep for the next century,” said Revenant as the group packed up for the night.
There was a groggy chorus of “same.”
“Welcome to the Roundtable Hold, friend," Recluse said with a smile towards Ironeye. “I certainly hope this hasn’t scared you off.”
The archer paused, surveying the group of adventurers around him: tired, a little worse for wear, but smiling nonetheless.
“If anything, that was the most exciting fight I’ve had in years,” he said with a smile.
Wylder felt a wash of relief, and let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
~
It wasn’t centuries later that Wylder woke up after all, but only an unfortunate eight hours.
His phone was plugged in next to his bed, and had begun to buzz intermittently in the early hours of the morning. As the hours passed it became more frequent, until he found himself stirring to the sounds of various dings, buzzes, and rings.
Surely whatever was so important could wait until after he slept a few more hours, right? He reached for the phone, groggily finding the button to silence it.
It wasn’t until he caught sight of his sister’s name at the top of the notifications that he considered checking them. Opening his messages, he found that she had sent him a single text among the flood of other notifications: a link to some social media post.
He sighed, tapping on the link and waiting for it to load. It was some video, posted recently from an account he didn’t recognize. When it finally finished loading, he was faced with a clip from a very familiar scene.
The camera zoomed in from a distance, watching as several of his friends took turns attacking the monster from that night. Then, at the perfect moment, Wylder himself slid across the screen, fell into his stance, and activated his pike in a fiery explosion.
The caption read: freak attack in Limveld stopped by aura-farming hero
It already had 8 million views.
~