Chapter Text
It had become a tradition of sorts, the townspeople and mercenaries crowding around the edge of town, watching the stagecoach draw near. The heroes were cheered in their presence, all but the those needing rest and healing, and they were allowed to head towards the front of the small audience, it being well known that they would need to see their new companions first.
Miss Indera, their employer, was there as well, holding a notebook of some kind, scrawling down notes and checking through the crude maps they had sketched for her of her ancestor’s estate. She was there to pick out the best and the brightest of the new recruits, even though at this point, they needed more bodies than skill.
There were only five of them, and three were out from the last expedition. They’d need more, the whole stagecoach, but she was looking over the newcomers with a discerning eye; one they couldn’t afford.
She shook her head at the man with the sparkling outfit, too skin tight and face hidden behind a mask. This wasn’t the place for someone whose skill rested in a sharper wit then their blades. A leper, also masked, was easily recognized by the thick bandages that felt stagnant under shining gold armor. He could stay. A plague doctor, nimble and hidden under robes, was also acquired, her head held high as her pride shown as brightly as the leper’s armor. That wouldn’t last.
Disarin pushed up to her and put an hand on her shoulder, pointing out the man that she had decided against, the last of the potentials. She had hardly given the strange man a glance before deciding against him.
Miss Indera glared at him, reminding him that she was in charge with a single look. Disarin should have feared her, but he was the one who’d gone into those depths, she hadn’t, and he’d robbed people twice as becoming as herself. This wasn’t his place to put in his say.
He didn’t stand down though, just pointed more strongly, more certainly.
She looked back at the stranger who was pulling himself back into the stagecoach. His shoulders were raised and his back was hidden by a tattered cloak, and much of it had been pulled over his face, so he was still an enigma to them.
“Come down here.” Miss Indera rolled her eyes. “Let us take a look at you.”
The figure stiffened but did not turn.
“Yes, you.” She motioned to his back and slowly he turned and wandered down to the crowd, flighty and hesitant. He kept his head down, some long strands of black hair falling from his hood. He was barefoot, a beggar most likely, a body in need of some cash more than adventure or fame. “What’s your name?”
The man did not answer. Instead he started to shake. To the untrained eye it would look like he was sobbing, but Disarin did not see any tears land on his cloak. The man was shaking from fear. With the horrors down below, he was certain that he had made the wrong decision.
“Fine, you don’t have a name, I get it. What are your skills?”
The figure looked around, eyeing the crowd and still said nothing.
Miss Indera set one hand on her hip, looking him up and down and not liking what she saw. “Look, do you want to go back on the stagecoach?”
At that he shook his head furiously and then tightened in on himself, as if he could make himself disappear completely. He had nowhere else to go, not out of this town, not from under Miss Indera’s gaze. He shifted uncomfortably instead.
“Let’s see you at the very least.” She sighed. She didn’t have that much patience, especially in a crowd.
The man went still, pitiful, and then very slowly, pulled the cloak away from his face. It wasn’t a bad face, but everyone in their audience gasped at the sight of it, many taking a step back. Ursa, the vestal beside Disarin, actually darted away from the crowd, as if this man was too much for her. He raised a hand, tried to cover the offending mark on his face, but everyone had already seen the massive A branded into his flesh. The symbol for the Andericun Penitentiary. Only madmen and monsters were ever seen coming from there.
“So you’re from there, huh?” Miss Indera was taken aback, visibly so, but she was strong enough to hide that fact, “At least that means there’s something to you. Released or escaped?”
He shuffled, pulling his hood back up to hide his face. His eyes were dark over his strong nose and there was a dusting of stubble over his chin and head, where he’d been shaved for the branding. It must have been recent then.
“Escaped.”
“Good, you’re not one of the bad ones then.” She turned to the other two recruits. “Alright, you head over to the tavern, I’ll be giving you a briefing and then we can get started.”
She glanced back over to Disarin, “And I want you there too. I’ve got some things I want to discuss with you privately.”
Disarin nodded, knowing that what she was going to say wasn’t going to be good. It was his own fault really, wasn’t supposed to question the boss.
The crowd dispersed and, while most of the townspeople returned to their homes and workplaces, Disarin could see his compatriots lag a bit, watching the newcomers head to the lights of the tavern. At the back of them, watched as if he were going to slaughter them all in a minute or two, was their new abomination, head down and a bit slower than the rest. He acted like a beaten dog, wary of every look and word.
The Caretaker slammed a hand onto Disarin’s shoulder, making him jump. The man’s teeth were half crooked half rotted out and the grin on his face was plastered on, never seeming to slide. The dark circles under his eyes were so dark it was clear he hadn’t slept since taking on his position, and Disarin would have been shocked to find if he was sane at all anymore.
“Good man.” He cackled in his shrill voice, “Got to throw a dog a bone, haven’t you?”
The newcomer may have acted like one, but he was no dog and Disarin pulled his shoulder from the Caretaker’s grip, glaring at him all the while.
“Better get him well trained, would be such a pity if he killed you and all your companions.”
Disarin growled at him, something carnal in his own throat. He didn’t take kindly to what the Caretaker was saying. He was sure that their new members would give them no issue, none of them.
“Cat got your tongue, little thief?” Disarin would have punched him in that wicked grin if he weren’t already in trouble with Miss Indera. “Better a cat than a dog, I’d say, but I’d say a lot more if this town wasn’t falling. Fret not, I’m sure dying at the hands of your pet monster will be much kinder than what you’ll find in the depths.”
Disarin didn’t pull back as he shoved the Caretaker out of his way, not worried about how he may run into someone else from the strength of his push. He heard the man curse and slip in the mud at the edge of town, but didn’t bother to look back at him. He trudged his way after the others, heading in the direction of the tavern.
The stranger at the back of the back glanced back at him, eyes sparkling from under his hood. He was a man in there, not some monster, not some beast. Disarin knew he’d made the right choice and smiled at him, hoping the expression reached his eyes as his mouth was well hidden behind his scarf. The abomination straightened slightly, eyes widening under his hood, and quickly turned away to follow the others.
It would be work, but Disarin was certain this newcomer would be a good ally in the darkness.