Chapter Text
On a cool spring morning, as light began to make its way between buildings and cast long shadows across the streets, Wylder was reminded once again why he loved his daily ride.
The city had woken up long ago (some would say it never really slept), and traffic was in full swing by the time Wylder and Duchess had started their commute. Luckily though, that meant little to them as they weaved back and forth between stopped cars.
Wylder’s bike was a beautiful thing: sleek, reliable, and damn fast when he needed it to be. The hum of the engine was like music to his ears, and with every gust of wind against his jacket he felt more alive. He’d inherited it from his parents, passed down from his father who hadn’t ridden in ages. Last year, by sheer coincidence, his sister had found a bargain listing online for an identical match–make, model, year, even color. Ever since then, the pair spent every morning riding together.
Wind rushed past as they sped through the streets, adrenaline doing more to wake them up than any amount of caffeine could. It wasn’t long before the sun finally crested over the city skyline, and the pair arrived at the destination where they would start their day.
The Roundtable Hold was a hole-in-the-wall diner on the edge of town, tucked away from most of the city. It was cozy, served good food, and the staff were a friendly bunch. It wasn’t exactly a popular spot, though it saw a steady flow of business. Most importantly, it was open twenty-four hours with booths large enough to accommodate all seven of their freelance adventuring group.
It had started with just Wylder and Duchess–a pair of young and broke siblings looking for odd jobs to pay rent. People were always looking for someone to chase out stray monsters or break a curse for cheap, and the two of them were surprisingly good at it.
Eventually, they got onto some official forums and job boards. Certain names became familiar, online introductions were made, and soon enough they were taking on joint contracts with new friends. Wylder brought along a fellow swordsman who’d been messaging with him about the merits of katanas versus greatswords (they agreed to disagree), Duchess introduced a skilled witch after they bonded over their favorite sorceries, and so on and so forth. It wasn’t long before friends-of-friends were introduced, and their original sibling partnership had transformed into a party of seven.
Even the proprietor of the Hold had become a friendly face by now, greeting Wylder and Duchess as they entered. Without needing to ask, he punched in their usual orders and nodded to the corner booth where their friends awaited.
Guardian waved excitedly as they approached, moving down the seat to give them room to slide in. Missing from breakfast was Revenant, who was more of a night owl, and Raider, who was probably nursing a hangover. Gods that man could drink.
“Good morning to you both,” Guardian said as the pair took their seats. “I see our dear Wylder survived last night after all.”
Wylder scoffed. “I wasn’t that drunk.”
“Ah, so you stumble around like that all the time?” Recluse asked coyly from behind a steaming mug. When the others stifled laughs, Wylder groaned and rubbed a hand down his face.
Duchess gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “It’s okay, we know you’re a big strong man who can hold his liquor and definitely didn’t need his baby sister to carry him home.”
“I hate all of you, by the way.”
“No you don't."
All jokes were forgotten as their food arrived then, a classic breakfast spread for Wylder and blueberry pancakes for Duchess. They dug in unceremoniously, and Guardian chuckled.
“Even if they didn’t look so alike, you’d be able to see the relation just by how they both inhale their food.”
“Rude,” Duchess said through a mouthful of pancake.
They managed to finish most of their meals without too much teasing from Guardian, pushing plates aside once satisfied. Duchess laid out a meticulous planner on the table, flipping through tabs until she settled on the information she was looking for.
“Alright, the three of you are okay to tackle those giant rats over by the subway?”
Guardian groaned. “Unfortunately.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard, but take care as always,” Duchess said, before adding, “I’ll make sure you guys get on a less gross contract next.”
Recluse sighed into her tea, but smiled nonetheless. “At least the pay is decent on this one.”
Duchess flipped through her planner again, settling on a page of information copied down from a job posting she’d seen. “Wylder and I are going to see if we can’t find that lady’s missing dog... So far nobody who’s responded has made it very far though.”
“Ah, but it’ll be no match for the founding members of the Nightfarers!” Guardian cheered.
Nobody joined in.
“That’s never going to catch on.”
Duchess elbowed her brother. “Oh hush. I like it, Guardian.”
~
The group split up for their respective jobs shortly after, wishing luck as they paid their bill and left the Hold.
Duchess and Wylder made a pit stop at the apartment to gather supplies and go over information, deciding finally to start at the last known whereabouts and go from there. Surely they could track down a single dog, right?
As the day went on though, it seemed every creature and monster within Limveld had decided to personally pick a fight with them; miranda sprouts in the park, giant crabs in the lake, a troll prowling the outskirts of town. By the time a massive fingercreeper dropped down from an alley wall straight onto Wylder’s back, the two were nearly at their limit.
And still, not a trace of the lost dog.
They finally stopped outside a fast food joint for a quick dinner, almost ready to resign themselves to failure. They were sitting outside, taking in the last minutes of warmth as the sun set. Duchess had her planner out again, and a map of Limveld unfolded between them.
“Alright, here–” she drew a big red circle on the map, “is where he originally got loose. And here–” another circle, “is the last confirmed sighting.”
She stared at the paper intensely, though Wylder knew her well enough to know that she was merely waiting for an idea to strike. Behind her, the last remaining rays of sunlight disappeared below the horizon.
Wylder let his focus wander, chewing his food absently. They were never gonna find this lost puppy, were they? Figures. The two of them had fought for their lives against monsters before, and yet they couldn't track down a single missing pet.
Wylder’s gaze fell on a pedestrian making his way down the sidewalk, scrawling quick notes onto a piece of paper. The stranger seemed engrossed in his task, hood up and eyes locked onto whatever he was writing.
Someone should keep him from accidentally walking into traffic, Wylder thought to himself. The man really did seem oblivious to the rest of the world.
That’s why Wylder’s interest spiked when he saw the man stop dead in his tracks, head slowly turning to look at something in the empty lot behind them. Carefully, he reached back and retrieved a bow from his back, silently nocking an arrow. That got Wylder’s full attention.
It wasn’t uncommon for people to carry simple weapons in town, especially considering how many people used them for work. People rarely batted an eye at Wylder’s greatsword, let alone a simple bow. What was uncommon was the need to draw your arms in public, especially in such a populated place.
Wylder stood up abruptly, nearly startling his sister.
“I’m gonna go check something out. I’ll yell if I need you,” he said. Duchess moved to question him, but the look in his eye stopped her. Wylder couldn’t be reasoned with when he had a weird instinct, and if his gut was telling him to investigate then that’s what he’d do.
“Be careful!” She called out behind him.
Wylder gave her a small wave as he jogged over to the edge of the fast food place, making his way towards the back lot.
It was getting dark now, and the only remnants of light were from the neon sign glowing out front. Wylder stepped slowly down the alley, gravel crunching underfoot. It wasn’t long before he saw that same stranger, crouched down at the edge of the building, bow at the ready.
The stranger must have heard Wylder approach, because his head whipped around to stare straight at him.
His hood was still up, and he wore a deep green jacket closed all the way up. The bottom half of his face was obscured by thin fabric, though his eyes remained uncovered.
His eyes.
Wylder stopped cold. Piercing blue eyes pinned him where he stood, daring him to take another step. In the dark of the alleyway, he could’ve sworn they glowed. Wylder felt his heart race, every nerve in his body set alight just by being the focus of that incandescent stare. The hairs on his arm stood up, skin buzzing like the beginning of a lightning storm.
They stayed like that for what seemed like a lifetime, frozen in each other’s sights. Eventually, Wylder remembered how to move his legs, and attempted to take a step towards the mysterious man.
“What are you–”
He got about halfway through his sentence when a snarl erupted from behind them.
The man jumped back, bow immediately drawn taut as he backed away from the wall. A red hot glow crept up the wall, and Wylder watched with horror as a massive wolf stalked around the corner, teeth gnashing.
It was easily ten feet tall, with fur the color of ash and charcoal. The air seemed to sizzle and crackle around it, tiny embers flitting into the air in its wake. Its eyes burnt with hatred.
“Nice doggy…” came a low and steady voice, and it took Wylder a minute to realize that the man had spoken.
In an instant, the wolf was charging through the narrow alleyway, jaws snapping ferociously at the man. Wylder let out a yelp, drawing his sword and jumping back.
By the grace of gods, this stranger seemed to be able to hold his own in a fight. He dashed around the wolf, jumping over debris and skirting around the alley and out to the empty lot beyond. The wolf took chase.
“Duchess!” Wylder bellowed as he followed, hoping his sister was close enough to hear.
In the lot, the other man was letting loose a volley of arrows while steadily backing away from the beast. He only made it so far until his back hit the wall of another building, cornered as it stalked towards him.
Wylder didn’t think about it. He was jumping through the air before he knew it, sword coming down in a vicious arc. He slammed against the wolf, twisting his body into another swing of his blade.
A great howl erupted from it, and Wylder felt claws slam against his side as he was knocked backwards. Tumbling against the asphalt, he could see the wolf snarl at him. Ouch.
Luckily, it was that moment that he heard the familiar clicking sound of a ticking timepiece. The wolf thrashed for a moment, reliving the feel of Wylder’s strikes, as Duchess ran past him deftly. Glowing twin daggers swished through the air before she jumped out of the path of another lunge from the wolf.
Relief rushed through Wylder at his sister’s arrival, and he fell back into his stance. Arrows were whizzing past him again, and he turned to see the stranger once again able to attack from afar.
Three against one were good odds, and Wylder’s confidence grew stronger as the impromptu trio took turns dealing damage to the beast. At least, it did until another growl sounded from behind him. And another.
Two more identical wolves burst into the fray, slashing and biting at their attackers. The smell of smoke filled the air, smouldering embers falling around them.
It wasn’t long before one of the wolves was able to sink its teeth into Wylder’s side, its jaw clamping down and a sickening crunch ringing out. He vaguely heard himself yell, and was on the ground before he realized it.
Duchess fell next, and he watched in horror as a wolf’s tail slammed into her chest. She sailed back through the air, crashing against the alley wall.
The stranger was the only one left standing, and was only able to desperately dodge as all three wolves turned their blazing eyes towards him. He seemed to make a split decision, dashing past the wolves and sprinting for Duchess. He crouched down in front of her, pulling her arm around his shoulder and helping her to stand. They were almost up, a crimson flask appearing from Duchess’ pouch, but the wolves were upon them.
Oh gods, Wylder thought. I’m going to watch them die.
Nausea took hold of him as the wolves pounced, and his eyes screwed shut helplessly…
“Gladius!”
His eyes snapped open. Who?
“Sit! Bad boy!”
He looked up. The lot was dead silent. His sister and the stranger were motionless, halfway standing. All three of them were staring at the source of the voice, in the center of the fray.
A woman, an old woman, was standing with one hand on her hip, the other pointed accusingly in front of her. At the wolves.
The three beasts watched her, before suddenly their ears were pinned low against their heads and tails tucked between their legs. A low whine rumbled from them.
“Come here boy,” the woman called, and a flash of light flooded the lot alongside a whoosh of hot air.
There were no longer three ten-foot-tall hellhounds in front of them, but now a single three-headed dog the size of a great dane. All three of its heads licked at the woman’s face as it jumped towards her, and she caressed them in turn.
“Oh Gladius,” she cooed. “Did you miss your mama? Don’t you ever go running away like that again!”
Wylder had died and hallucinated this entire scene in front of him. That was the only explanation. This was not happening.
His sister cuffed him upside the head, knocking him out of his delirium. Okay, this was happening then.
She pressed a crimson flask into his hands, looking pointedly at the blood staining his side.
“Drink.”
Wylder took a deep swig. He felt his wounds knitting together, blood rushing back to his head already. He caught his breath, eventually turning back to watch the woman sweetly petting her dog.
“What the hell just happened.”
Duchess didn’t answer, instead making her way towards the old woman. Wylder scurried after her, arriving in time to see his sister pull out the job posting from earlier.
“Thank goodness you found him,” the woman said, tears welling up. “I was so worried, I just knew something terrible would happen. I’ve never seen him get this way before!”
“No worries ma'am, happy to help,” Duchess replied. Wylder watched in a daze as an envelope was handed over, and Duchess secured it in her jacket.
Job complete.
~
It wasn’t until his wounds had completely closed and his head stopped spinning that Wylder remembered the mysterious archer.
Duchess seemed to be on the same page, and quickly disappeared towards the street in search of the man. Luckily, he hadn’t gotten far, though he looked as if he wished he did. Duchess had grabbed him by the shoulders, and he was stiffly staring back at her.
“You were incredible!” she gushed.
“Ah. Thank you?”
His voice was deep and quiet, though slightly stifled from behind his mask. He looked as if he wished he was anywhere else. Duchess, oblivious, continued to shower him with compliments. She even offered up some of her healing flask, unrelenting until he accepted a sip.
Wylder suddenly felt awkward standing at the edge of their conversation, so he decided formal introductions were in order.
“Wylder,” he said, extending a hand, “and this is my sister, Duchess.”
The man looked at him, making no move to shake his hand.
“...Ironeye.” He said plainly. Then, as if remembering his manners, he added, “Thank you for the help back there.”
Wylder nodded. “No problem.”
Duchess gasped then, and Wylder spun to see what was wrong. Instead, her face was alight with an excited grin.
“You should join us!” she exclaimed. The archer stared blankly back at her.
“My brother and I take up special jobs together, along with some friends of ours. We all have our specialties, but none of us have any ranged capabilities like what you did tonight. We’d love for you to team up with us in the future!”
She pulled out her notebook, ripping a page out and quickly jotting down an address.
“This is where we usually meet, come in any day and you’re sure to find us!” She handed it to him eagerly.
The man (Ironeye, he’d said) took it hesitantly, and took in the sight of the two siblings. They must look disastrous right now, covered in blood and gore despite Duchess’ radiant smile. Still, he sighed and pocketed the note.
“I’ll consider it,” he said quietly. With that, he bid them goodnight and made his way along the dark sidewalk.
Wylder and Duchess reconveined in front of the restaurant, both eager to get home and sleep off the last of their injuries. They collected their things and walked towards their twin motorcycles, thinking about the whirlwind of events that had just unfolded.
“He was cool,” Duchess commented. Wylder didn’t need to ask who she was referring to.
“He was weird.”
A snort. “Nah, I liked him. And I bet he’s cute under the mask.”
Wylder’s turn to laugh. “Or, he’s secretly really ugly. You’d never know.”
They joked amicably, settling back into their usual attitudes as they walked.
“By the way, I never asked you how much that lady paid us,” Wylder said.
Duchess hummed, pulling the envelope from inside her jacket. “The ad said it wouldn’t be much, but who knows? Maybe she threw in a tip.”
She unfolded the paper, peeking inside and flipping through bills.
“Well?” Wylder asked, only to turn and see Duchess stopped in her tracks. His eyebrows raised in question, and slowly his sister turned to him with wide eyes and a grin.
“Well,” she said. “Drinks are on us this weekend,” and held up a thick stack of crisp hundred dollar bills.
“Holy shit.”
~