Chapter Text
Keyleth tries not to look back one last time as she heads down the mountain, away from Zephra. She’s already turned around to look at her father twice, and she feels that every time she looks back, every time she even feels the impulse, she’s showing just how weak she is.
She fights it, but she just can’t stop herself, so she slows down, turning her head around to look back, but she’s too far away to see anything now, the figure of her father fading into the fog.
Taking a deep breath, Keyleth fights back the tears and walks on, toward her destiny.
It’s a three day walk to Stillbend, with two nights in between the days. The first night, camping among the trees, being able to see the stars through the branches and leaves, is actually calming. Nature is her domain, it comforts her, and sleeping among the trees makes her feel safe, and for the first since she left home that morning, her tears stop completely.
The next night, though, isn’t as calm and comforting. She’s closer to town now, and she knows that there are probably townspeople who go out to the woods to hunt, to fish, or to do any number of things regular people living in regular towns do. It takes her a long time to sleep, every sound around her alerting her senses more than usual. At one point she’s sure she hears the swooshing of flying arrows, followed by the low grumble of what sounds like a bear. A few moments later she thinks she hears the low murmur of a woman’s voice, followed by another small bear sound, but she can’t make out the words and she starts to wonder if she’s imagining it.
It’s a difficult night, and Keyleth tosses and turns, unable to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time.
In the morning, as she starts the final leg of her journey toward Stillbend, her eyelids are heavy and her bones ache from the lack of sleep, and she wonders if it’s always going to be like this.
When she finally walks into Stillbend the light from the day is fading, and there’s a man walking down the main street, using a long rod of some kind to light the lamps that line the road. Despite the darkening sky, there are still so many people on the street, more people than she’s ever seen in one place, and her heart starts pounding in fear.
Keyleth has never been in a town before. Her father had described them to her, trying to prepare her for what she’d come across in her journeys, but there’s no way his descriptions could have prepared her for the amount of people, the amount of noise, the way the buildings are so close together, the way they’re all filled with people as well.
And this is supposed to be a small town.
Swallowing past the growing lump in her throat, she fights back the tears and walks toward the man lighting the lamps. “Excuse me,” she says, her voice quiet as she tries to keep it from shaking. He doesn’t respond, doesn’t give any indication that he’s even heard her. “Excuse me?” she tries again, a little louder, very unhappy with the quake in her voice.
He looks over at her but doesn’t say anything, his eyebrow raising up, impatience pouring from his essence.
“Um, would you be kind enough to direct me to an inn?” she asks.
The man still doesn’t speak, pointing to a place behind her. She turns to look, squinting as she reads the signs that line the street. Finally, a ways down, she sees a simple sign that reads “Swampside Inn”.
“Thank you,” she says, turning around, only to find that the man has moved down the street to light another lamp. “Thank you!” she calls a little louder. No response.
She turns and walks toward the inn, trying to maker herself as small as possible, pulling her shoulders in, hoping that nobody bumps into her.
The amount of people inside of the inn is worse than the street, but the smell is better. There’s definitely a very present scent of what she assumes is just people, a lot of people crammed into one space. But covering that is the smell cooking meat, beef, she thinks, warm and welcoming.
The scent is calming, but the sound, the overwhelming, unfamiliar din of dozens of people in an enclosed space sets her on edge as she navigates her way through the crowd, trying to get up to the bar. She hears some loud shouting from the corner, a countdown, and she looks over, seeing a man larger than any she’s ever seen - a Goliath? - and a gnome, both downing a cask of ale, seemingly racing to see who finishes first. The large man slams his glass down first, letting out a triumphant roaring noise, but it’s only a few seconds before the gnome slams his glass down as well.
Finally, Keyleth makes her way to the bar. Behind it is a halfling, standing on a stool so he can see over the side of the counter. He’s not quite at eye level with her, and his smile is pleasant and kind. “What’ll it be, miss?”
“Um,” she starts, nervously pushing her hair behind her ear. “I - I was told to find an inn and rent a room?” She winces, hearing the way it sounds. “I need a room,” she amends, trying to put some strength behind her words. “I have enough to maybe pay for a few nights and I - I was told there would be jobs posted?” Keyleth tries to remember everything she was told and the order in which she’s supposed to do it, but the voices around her are so loud.
The barkeep looks her over closely and Keyleth feels herself pulling her body in even further, her arms coming up to cross over her body. Finally he looks into her eyes, the smile still on his face. “You’re one of them Ashari, ain’t you?”
“Yeah. Yes,” she responds, unsure of whether or not she should be concerned that this man knows of her people, wondering too late if maybe she should have lied.
“Aye,” he says, his smile growing more welcoming. “My family’s had this inn for generations. More than a couple of Ashari have passed through as their first stop on their journey.”
“Really?” Keyleth asks, a huge sense of relief washing over her.
“Usually though it’s at least a few decades between them,” he continues. “But it seems like it’s only been a few years since the last one came through.”
“That was my mother,” she says eagerly, moving closer to the bar. “She was here?”
“She was. She stayed for a bit over a month, made a couple of friends, took them with her when she went.”
“She was here.” She says it to herself, her mind wandering for a moment. It’s the first piece of information she’s heard about her mother since she left, the first piece of something. Her eyes take in the room around her as she thinks about the fact that her mother was here, that she might be standing in the exact same place her mother stood dozens of times.
The halfling watches her, and after a moment says, “Tell you what. The Ashari are kind of regulars here, in a way. It’s about time we showed our appreciation. You can have the room for free for a few nights.”
Tears well up in her eyes and she blinks frantically, trying to hold them at bay. “Thank you. So much,” she whispers.
“Not at all, not at all,” he says. “Would you like some ale?”
Keyleth looks at him uncertainly. She’s never had ale before, but she knows about what it’s supposed to do to a person. It might not be a good idea, getting drunk on her quest. But it’s not like she has anything to do tonight. And she is supposed to try new things, get to know the world.
“I think I would. Thank you.”
He disappears for a moment, coming back with a large tankard of ale. “Name’s Renning, by the way.”
“Keyleth,” she says, lifting the ale to her mouth and taking a small sip. It’s not the best taste in the world, sort of stale and sharp at the same time, but she tries again, a gulp this time, and after a few tries it doesn’t taste as bad.
“The job board’s over there,” Renning says, pointing at the wall near the door. “But it’s better to check it in the morning after people’ve put up new stuff. It’s usually picked pretty bare by the end of the day.”
She nods at him, continuing to drink her ale, pleased by the way the sound around her seems to become duller and duller the longer she sits there. When she goes up the stairs, looking for the number on the door that matches the key Renning gave her, she stumbles a bit, the weight of her pack making it difficult, the edges of her vision slightly blurry. When she finds her room she sets down the pack, making sure to lock the door carefully before she plops down on the bed, enjoying how warm and light she feels as she drifts off to sleep.
Her days start to take on a sort of routine. Every morning when she looks at the job board she reads the more dangerous jobs, the jobs that offer the most money. Bounties on fugitives and monsters, protection and guard jobs. There are a few there that she knows she could probably do by herself, but eventually her eyes move past them, on to the easier jobs. People asking for help with their gardens, harvesting crops in the farms on the edges of the town, fishing in the swamp. These are the jobs she ends up taking, every day, hating herself each time.
They don’t pay much. They barely pay enough to cover her room and feed herself. Keyleth knows she needs to start taking on better paying jobs, that she needs to start saving up for her journey, but she can’t bring herself to do it, to take on a job where she’ll actually have to prove herself.
She doesn’t want to fail.
But over a month passes, and when Renning says to her, “It’s not that I don’t enjoy having you around, dear. You definitely brighten the place up. But don’t think you’d better continue your journey?”, she knows what she has to do.
Her heart pounds as she looks at the job board. A part of her knows she should be smart, that she should take on the lower paying of the potentially dangerous jobs, jobs that she knows she can handle, and take a little time to save up. But she’s stalled for so long, already feels so far behind, so she starts looking at the bigger jobs, the bounties on monsters, big monsters, that offer hundreds of gold.
She sees a job, a bounty on some kind of swamp monster, offering 300 gold. Her hand grabs for it, but collides with another hand, one covered in leather. She pulls back quickly, embarrassed, looking at the ground. “Sorry,” she mumbles.
“No worries,” the voice attached to the hand says. The voice is deep and smooth, an accent she’s not familiar with, and she finds it oddly soothing. She’s still too embarrassed to look up, though, her face turning red.
Keyleth can feel the man’s eyes studying her. “You’re interested in the Yuan-Ti job?” he asks her, his voice curious.
“I um…” she starts, pushing her hair behind her ear and fiddling with the ends. “Yes. I mean… I guess. I need the money.”
“Yuan-Ti are nothing to sneeze at,” he tells her. “Not really the kind of job you want to take on without a crew.”
She’s silent for a long moment, feeling her face turn even redder as she lets her hair fall out from behind her ear so it can form something of a curtain around her. “Well, like I said, I need the money.”
It’s silent for a moment before he says, “Do you want a crew?”
Her head snaps up in surprise, finally looking at the man’s face. His smile is warm and open, but when their eyes meet his expression goes sort of slack, his eyes widening as he looks at her. His expression makes him look like he’s been stunned by something. His eyes are dark, but somehow soft and sharp at the same time. His black hair is pulled back into several braids at the base of his skull, some of it hanging over his shoulder. He’s a half-elf, a bit taller than she is, thin and lean, clad in dark colors and a lot of leather. The way he looks, Keyleth thinks he should maybe be scary, or at least a bit intimidating, but there’s something comforting in his presence, in his eyes, and she feels her nervousness and embarrassment ebbing, just a bit.
He stares at her with that look on his face, a look she can’t begin to understand, before he recovers, his eyes trailing over her Ashari markings, her circlet, the flowers in her hair. “Are you a druid?”
“Yeah,” she responds, quiet and a bit confused.
“Druids can do healing magic, right?” he asks.
“We can.” she answers. “I can.”
His smile widens. He reaches up taking the job listing for the bounty on the Yuan-Ti, and takes her hand. “Come with me.”
Keyleth lets the stranger pull her through the bar, marveling at how well he’s able to maneuver through the crowd. “My name’s Vax, by the way,” he shouts back at her.
She doesn’t respond, knows she couldn’t make her voice loud enough that he’d be able to hear her while they’re walking through the crowd. It’s not until they stop by a table at the edge of the room that she says, “I’m Keyleth,” when he turns to face her.
He’s still smiling at her as he tugs on her hand, pulling a chair out for at the table. “Come. Sit.”
Doing as she’s told, she looks around the table. She vaguely recognizes everyone, has seen them in the tavern many, many times over the past month. They all look at her expectantly, expression ranging from curious to suspicious, as Vax pulls up a chair next to her.
“Brother?” the lone woman of the group, another half elf, asks, her voice low. “Who is this?”
“This is Keyleth,” he responds. “Keyleth, this is everybody. My twin sister Vex'ahlia. The big guy is Grog. The little guy is Scanlan. And the dragon is Tiberius.”
The names fly at her so fast as she looks around the table, trying to match the names to the descriptions. They’re all still looking at her, and she’s beginning to grow uncomfortable - well, more uncomfortable - and she really has no idea what she’s doing at this table.
“Hello, Keyleth. It’s so nice to meet you,” the half-elf woman says, though there’s something to the tone of her voice that makes Keyleth think that she isn’t being entirely sincere. “Vax, what’s going on?”
“Keyleth is a druid,” Vax says simply, taking a drink of his ale, as if that explains everything.
“That’s fascinating,” the gnome says, his voice flat and dry.
Keyleth is starting to move from feeling uncomfortable to feeling embarrassed. She wants to ask what’s going on, why Vax brought her over her, but her throat almost feels like it’s swollen, like even though air is moving in and out that there’s no way she’d be able to push any words out.
“Druids have healing magic,” Vax continues. “We could really use someone else with healing magic.”
“I have healing magic,” the gnome says, seeming mildly offended.
“I know you do, buddy, and it’s great. But are you really going to tell me that we couldn’t use someone else who can do that? That fight with the gang of bullywugs rough and we came close to not making it out with all of us alive. Don’t you think it would be a good idea to have some more healing magic? Especially going up against a Yuan-Ti.”
“He isn’t wrong,” the dragonborn says.
“He really isn’t,” the goliath says, his mouth full. “And you did kind of almost die, Scanlan.”
“Exactly,” the dragonborn agrees. “Potions are useful and all, but what if we’d run out? Who would have healed you?”
“Okay, okay,” the gnome - Scanlan - says. “You guys might be right. It probably would be a good idea to have another person who can use magic to heal.”
Vax smiles at the group with a triumphant expression. “What do you say, Stubby?”
The woman’s expression is hard as she studies Keyleth. After what seems like hours she finally says. “One job.” Then she turns to Grog and Scanlan and starts to argue with them about something involving rubies and their night time activities.
When Keyleth turns to look at Vax he’s grinning at her, seeming very proud of himself. “What just happened?” she asks, keeping her voice low.
He leans in close, keeping his voice as quiet as hers. “You just joined the party.”
Vax pays for her drinks all night, which really only amounts to two and half ales, as she sits around the table with the group, listening to them joke and argue. Eventually Vex stands from the table. “I’m going to go check on Trinket and then turn in,” she says, throwing some coins onto the table. “Everybody be ready to go at dawn.” She throws a measured, inscrutable look at Keyleth before walking away, heading toward the door of the inn.
It’s not long after she leaves that Keyleth starts to feel very pleasantly fuzzy, so when Scanlan asks her where she’s from she finds herself telling the whole story, about the Ashari, how her father is headmaster and she was chosen to follow in his footsteps, about the journey she has to complete, becoming a leader and visiting the three other Ashari tribes.
She doesn’t tell them about her mother, though. Even as happy and light as she’s feeling, that’s still too painful to share.
“So does that mean you’re royalty?” Grog asks, his eyes wide.
“No. No, no, no no no,” she says, shaking her head. “Ashari don’t really do royalty.”
“But you’ll be the leader?” Scanlan says.
“Yeah.”
“And nobody voted for you.”
“I guess not.”
“You were just chosen by the leader before you.”
“Uh huh.”
“So how are you not royalty?” Scanlan asks, his speech slurring a bit.
“I understand, milady,” Tiberius says, placing his hand on top of hers. “I, too, come from a very important house in Draconia, and it can be so important to make sure those who aren’t quite as important aren’t resentful of our position.”
“Huh?” The dragonborn man is the only one at the table not drinking, and yet Keyleth is more confused by him than anyone else.
“So what does that mean, ‘become a leader’?” Vax asks, pulling her attention away from Tiberius.
“I… ummm…. I don’t really know,” she says, giggling a bit despite the fact that she doesn’t feel like it’s very funny. “I know I have to finish the trials with each Ashari tribe, but other than that I have no idea.” She can hear her voice growing quieter and sadder as she talks, but she finds she can’t react in time to do anything about it.
The others look at her, seeming a bit uncomfortable, and her face starts to turn red again. But then she feels a hand close over hers and looks to see Vax’s leather-clad hand, resting on top of hers, and when she looks up at him his eyes are warm and comforting.
He walks her to her room a bit later, helping her up the steps. “I don’t-” she starts, hiccuping. “I don’t usually drink this much. I’ve never really drank this much. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he says, his voice amused. “We were celebrating you joining the group. That’s what celebrations are for.”
“Your sister said one job,” she reminds him, stopping in front of her door.
“She’ll come around,” Vax says, leaning against the wall. “I can be very persuasive where my sister is concerned.” Keyleth looks at him doubtfully, but he smiles at her reassuringly. “Get some sleep. We’re getting up and going bright and early.”
“Okay,” she says, her voice little more than a whisper. Her eyes stay locked with his for a few moments that seem to stretch on in her fuzzy, warm state, and eventually she pushes the door open, smiling at him one last time before entering the room, closing the door behind her.
When Vax walks into the room he shares with his sister, he’s surprised to find Vex still awake, sitting cross legged on the bed, a book open in front of her.
“Waiting up?” he asks, suspicious.
“Of course not,” she says, her voice too smooth and sincere to be honest. “I simply became very interested in this book.”
“Right,” he says, taking off his cloak and draping it over the desk chair.
Silent moments stretch out between them as Vax takes off his armor, preparing for bed. He can feel his sister’s eyes on him from time to time, and though he tries to ignore them, by the time he’s ready to get in to bed it’s setting his nerves right on edge.
“Out with it, Stubby. What’s your problem?”
When she doesn’t answer right away he turns to look at her, surprised by the wondering expression in her face. “What are you doing Vax?” she finally asks.
“What are you talking about?”
“With the girl,” she responds, her voice taking on a sort of duh, idiot tone. “She’s not exactly your type.”
Vax scoffs. “I don’t have a type.”
“You so do,” his sister says. “Maybe not a physical type. But you like people who are powerful in some way.
"Powerful? Really? After our childhood you really think I'm attracted to people with power?"
"Not like, political or royal power. Not influence. The other kind of power. People who, I don't know... wield a skill well, like magic or something. Don't think I didn't see the way you were looking at those guys in Kymal who did magic for that sun god or whatever he was. You find it attractive. This girl, though… she’s a quiet, meek little thing.”
“She’s not meek, she’s just a little green,” he says, finding himself driven to defend Keyleth. “Besides, it’s not like that.”
“Then what it is it like?”
“She needs help, a group to do jobs with, and we need another person with healing magic. It just makes sense.”
Vex continues to watch him, and he becomes distinctly uncomfortable with the expression on her face, that expression she gets when she’s trying to figure a person out. He’s not used to having it aimed at him, and he finds it’s a strange feeling that makes his skin tingle, making him feel like he’s done something wrong even though he hasn’t.
“As long as that’s all it is,” Vex says after awhile. “Because she’s only staying for one job.” And with that she blows out the candle on the bed side table, turns over, and goes to sleep.
Vax lies awake in bed for a bit longer, thinking about the day ahead. He finally drifts off to sleep, and in the morning he doesn’t remember what he dreamed of, not really, beyond flashes of long red hair, mixed with vines and flowers, wrapping comfortingly around a raven.