Chapter Text
It was in the early hours of the evening, when the sun has sunk low behind the hills and the dusk is stained purple. Just past the sunset that signals the end of a labourer’s work day when thirsty men can turn in for a hard earned drink. This is when the taverns are flooded with business. Locals flock to the bustling social centres of town and tired adventurers unwind before retiring to their inn room on the second floor.
At this busy hour was when a stranger walked in on the usual scene. With such bustle and livelihood about, he might have easily gone unnoticed, his presence merely a raindrop in a storm, like any other among the crowd. Instead, his entrance struck like lightning in broad daylight. Just as flashy too.
Though wearing a dark cape as if to conceal his identity, the man throws off the hood as he parades through the door, loudly announcing,
“What ho, fellow townsfolk! How be we on this very fine evening?”
Indubitably confirming his identity as an outsider, as well as an absolute buffoon, to the entire room.
The stranger marches proudly forward, drawing every eye in the tavern, utmost confidence unfaltering even as the clamour of chatter mutes to a hushed whisper in his wake.
Even without such an entrance, it would have been difficult to go unnoticed when one was dressed far more lavishly than any common folk or traveller could hope to afford. Far too many braided leather belts hang around his chest and waist, the fabric of his clothes beneath deliberately dyed in rich browns and earth tones. Expensive tall boots click across the floor sporting not a speck of mud but at least half a dozen golden buckles, and every last fold of his outfit is decorated with beads and bangles, shiny rings with colourful gemstones, chains and necklaces and other such flourishes all sparklingly brand new, every inch of his appearance pristine.
This look, however, was not a typical case of vanity. At least once a week some charlatan will waltz in covered with jewels and colourful silks, clearly just some narcissistic quack who spent a fortune attempting (poorly) to appear rich and important. This man instead flaunts the much rarer occurrence of a rich person with no experience in the outside world attempting (poorly) to come off as normal.
Taking a seat at the bar, the man asks for “a fine ale”, then turns to strike a hearty conversation with the lady at his left. The woman prattles back to him sweetly, eyeing the gold bands on his fingers with a greedy hunger.
It’s as plainly obvious as his wealth that the man is oblivious to his situation. He might as well have stuck a sign scribed with the words ‘easy target’ to his back. Already on his walk through the room, several chains and jewel-encrusted bands have been swiped off his wrists. The lady he’s speaking to already has her fingers entangled with his, preparing to slide off the rings, while the man seated on his right rifles through his bag while his back is turned. No person with any ounce of common sense should come into such a place with so many valuables. It seems impossible that anyone could be so abundantly clueless, unless perhaps this was their first time ever stepping beyond the meticulously kept grounds of their sheltered estate. His entire presence fills the room with the stench of ridiculous privilege, and the local pickpockets flock to it like crows to a corpse.
At least he seems to be thoroughly enjoying his little adventure out in town, laughing and drinking and soaking in the attention of the crowd that has formed around him. It’s probably well enough deserved that he should get to have a little fun, seeing how he’ll no doubt be blindly mugged on his way back home, left in some dark alley bruised and bloody. However innocent his motivations, it’ll be a good lesson for him to learn.
In fact, it’s rather astonishing that he’s made it all this way without being jumped. Perhaps he had an escort, or just a stroke of luck on this particular night.
And for some unfathomable reason, he continues to push that luck by breaking out of the centre of attention where he’s being showered in flattery, instead waltzing over to the farthest, darkest corner of the room. There, he takes a seat next to a man concealed by a similar hooded cloak, who had until now been sitting alone, attracting as little attention as possible while he watched the commotion silently from a distance.
The dark figure lifts his head slowly to the stranger’s arrival. Though his face is cloaked in shadow, eyes the purplish colour of obsidian catch the light with a steely glare. Undaunted, the stranger speaks up.
“Hello friend! I could spot a fellow adventurer a mile away. Can’t blame you choosing to keep to yourself, people like us will never quite fit in, eh? Cast out from society because they just couldn’t understand us, condemned to a life of solitude. Only each other to keep for company, for only another walking this perilous journey could hope to understand our struggles.” He gives the hooded man a sympathetic nudge with his forearm, only to get pushed away by a cold shrug of disinterest.
“What do you want.”
“Oh wow! You have a much higher voice than I would have expected for someone so dark and brooding. It’s quite striking! Have you ever considered a career as a singer?”
“…”
“The silent type. I get it. I imagine you’ve seen unspeakable things that weigh on you with each waking moment and choke the words coming out of your throat. Yeah I can relate. We’re one in the same, you and I.”
Again, he says nothing. He’s not even looking at the excitable gentleman trying his best to strike up a conversation, eyes instead scanning across every other person in the tavern. Interestingly, the crowd of thieves hasn’t attempted to follow the stranger’s migration. Each merely shot a wary glance towards the hooded figure in the corner before turning back to their previous business.
“My, you are mysterious, aren’t you? A real enigma. Tell me mysterious stranger, what travels bring you here to this place, at this time, such that our paths might happen to cross, hm?”
At last the hooded man stirs, sitting up straight and taking a swig from his mug, then heaving a long, suffering, sigh before allowing the other his full attention.
“What makes you think that’s any of your business?”
“Simple curiosity. You looked so lonely and crushed by the weight of the world back here, I just had to know what’s going on behind those dark mysterious eyes of yours.”
Said dark mysterious eyes fix him with another hard look, the expression searching, trying to peer deep beneath the stranger’s bubbly exterior.
“You’re very strange, you realize?” He says at last.
“Oh stop, you flatter me.” The stranger puts a hand over his heart earnestly, and it’s impossible to tell whether he's joking. “You’re plenty strange as well.”
“You have no idea.”
“Then you should tell me all about it once we’ve been properly acquainted.” He offers a hand in greeting. “The name’s Scar, lovely to meet you.”
The hooded man doesn’t reciprocate the gesture, he only gives another long stare, this one painted incredulous.
“You’re serious?”
“No, I’m Scar.”
“Your parents must have been cruel.”
“Oh hush now, that’s not my real name you know.” He shakes his head fervently. “That’s my adventurer’s alias. I’ve got to conceal my identity, stay inconspicuous, you know?”
“Yes you’ve done a wonderful job of that.”
“Aw, you’re just too sweet,” Scar gushes, either ignoring or completely missing the sarcasm. “See, I knew there was someone all kind and mushy under that spiky exterior.” He reaches out to poke at one of the little silver thorns embedded in the man’s black leather armour, just barely visible under the cloak.
“Please don’t touch me.” He gets his hand slapped away.
“Got it. Very shiny, but admiring from a distance,” Scar nods, immediately respecting the boundary. “Though you still haven’t told me your own name slash super-cool-alias yet.”
“It’s Grian.”
“Really? Must just be the lighting then ‘cause it looks fully black to me,” He muses, examining the armour thoughtfully.
“What, no. Not green. Gri-an. With an I.”
“Nah, you got at least two of those,” Scar winks, flashing a cheeky grin.
“Are you messing with me?” Grian asks, his face again struck incredulous.
“You got me!” Scar throws his hands up in mock surrender, chucking to himself. “I do like to tease, but it’s all just a bit of lighthearted fun.”
Grian sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to think of the nicest possible way of telling a nice person to fuck off.
“Scar, what exactly are you trying to offer me?”
“Just some good times, the best of my company, a laugh to cheer up a grumpy brooding fellow.”
“Then I suggest you go bother some other poor soul, since I think you and I have very different ideas of fun.”
“Oh just humor me.” Scar leans in closer, not touching, yet still invading personal space. “What is it you do find fun? I’m sure we can come to some compromise.”
“Well,” Grian takes another sip of his ale, getting a sly glint in his eye. “Watching you get blindly robbed was rather amusing. You must have realized by now that most of your stuff is missing?”
“Oh it’s fine,” Scar shrugs, not seeming surprised. “I’ve never been much of a material guy. Besides, it’s probably better to travel light, and I surely won’t attract as much attention without it.”
“You’re not upset?”
“It’s just stuff.” He looks down at his hands, fidgeting with the few rings that are left. “I know without a doubt whoever took it will make much better use of it than I could.”
Grian frowns.
“You can’t seriously be sympathizing with petty thieves and criminals? They’re not going to wear your jewels, they’re going to sell them.”
“Well yeah. They probably need that money for their families, or to buy a new pair of shoes, or fix that leak in their roof, or even just to buy an extra drink tomorrow night. They’re not just petty thieves, they’re people too.”
Grian shakes his head, left incredulous for the third time this conversation.
“You don’t get it, do you? You can’t just hand things out to people and expect something back. They won’t return the favour, they’ll just return looking for more. People are selfish and greedy, always. Even you and me. The sooner you can learn that, the better off you’ll be. You can start by taking a look around you, and realizing that every single person in this tavern is taking advantage of you.”
Scar thinks about that for a moment.
“Are you?”
A pause.
“No. I care much too little for that.”
Scar smiles. Then he laughs.
“Aww, that’s too bad. Because I am very greedy and selfish and I love taking advantage of people.” He tilts his head mischievously. “Say Grian, I seem to have lost my coin purse, would you mind covering my tab?”
“No—”
“Problem? Excellent!” He stands suddenly, his chair scraping backwards roughly across the wooden floorboards. “Hear that everyone? The next round is on me!”
And the whole tavern cheers.
Grian groans, letting his head slam down on the table. Scar sits back down next to him, laughing in the merriment that’s got everyone crowding around the bar.
“See? Now you’ve got a good excuse to take advantage of me. Payback.” Grinning, he takes a long sip of his fine ale. “Now this is fun.”
“I hate you.”
“Already? Nonsense, we’re just getting started my friend!”