Just Another Hire? (DreamCastle & LustfulSins)

[DreamCastle]

No one had taken the revolution seriously. And yet, it had swept through the vast lands of Valeia like a wildfire out of control, growing from hushed whispers on the lips of poor folk with nothing to lose into a raging fire in the hearts of farmers, miners, hunters and merchants alike. The king had refused to acknowledge his own people were rising against him until it was too late, his head now on display at the palace gates, severed from the body it belonged to. The foolish king had failed to see the need of his people, failed to care for them as a king should, and eventually they took his life.

The nobility were next, having earned almost equal resentment from the common folk. Decades of tax exemptions when those with less were robbed of their last pennies, the luxurious extravagance shown in fine silks and sparkling jewelry and the plentiful feasts when the common people starved only stoking the resentful rage that finally was unleashed when the year’s harvest was not enough to feed the people and it seemed no one cared enough to help. It had been fast and brutal, blood flowing throughout the country as the nobility who had not been smart enough to flee beyond the borders when they still could were hunted down and slain in the most frightful of ways.

It had been a wonder he had survived on his own this far. René du Bellay was the eldest son of the renowned du Bellay family, their wealth rumored to be almost greater than the king’s had been and their influence far-reaching even into the strange eastern lands so few dared yet venture to. Currently, no amount of gold or foreign relations seemed to be quite enough to save him however.

Through pure luck and chance he had not yet been recognized by anyone, not yet hunted down like so many others. Perhaps it was because of his wits, having been forward-thinking enough to disguise himself a wealthy foreign merchant rather than traveling as a noble, or perhaps it was because everyone believed the entirety of the du Bellay family to be safely across the border enjoying the hospitality of their friends in Paleir. No one knew the heir to the family fortune was still roaming the countryside of Valeia, having had to stay behind initially and now - well, now he was unable to cross the border without being caught by the revolutionaries.

The tiny inn he currently resided in was an establishment in the rich southern part of the kingdom, the area that had heavily relied on the nobility for their business. Now that the nobles were gone, the whole area had lost much of its income - it was clear they held no love for those responsible. It was the safest place for René to be, for if he were to be found out it was unlikely the people would turn him in. But every day was spent in fear and terror.

The revolutionaries’ army was sweeping through the country to weed out the last remaining nobles, and to restore order to the people who suddenly found themselves without a king to lead them. There was no night when he did not wake up in cold sweat from a nightmare that ended with a blade at his neck. René knew he needed to find a way to the northern border to cross over into Paleir, but to get there he would first have to pass through the country, through the most dangerous areas littered with people supporting the revolution, actively hunting nobility. He had already stayed in Valeia too long, the small town of Daie would not be enough to offer him safety much longer. He had come in hopes of finding someone to act as a bodyguard, to get him safely to Paleir, but no such luck had been granted to the young lord. It seemed all mercenaries, anyone who knew how to hold a sword, were currently on the hunt for nobility with the promise of a reward from those in charge of the revolution.

The tiny inn of no more than six rooms he’d been staying in for the past weeks was quiet that morning when René descended the stairs to get himself the modest breakfast that he’d somewhat grown used to. This was a far cry from the luxury he was used to, the bed hard in comparison to his own goose feather pillows and animal furs, the room dingy and cramped compared to the marble halls and gilded walls of his family’s manor. The food was tasteless, when one was used to perfectly seasoned meats and fresh, exotic fruits, the finest wines the kingdom had to offer.

“Good morning, Jack”, René murmured as he reached the counter behind which an elderly man sat, his graying hair and wrinkled face contradicted by the youthfully mischievous sparkle in his eyes. René suspected the elderly inn-owner knew René was not exactly who he said he was, though he did not seem to care. He was a kind old man, not interested in the revolutions and fights of the younger folk. He had taken René’s explanation of being a foreign merchant on the look for a mercenary to guard his merchandise during his travels in a stride, seemingly not thinking twice on it - it was not an entirely ludicrous story after all, thieves and robbers weren’t an uncommon sight especially on the countryside roads that usually were used by merchants passing through the kingdom. Although to anyone with sharp eyes and the understanding to check, it would be clear his mannerisms were too refined for a mere merchant, his hands too soft from never having had to work a day in his life.

“I believe I had a visitor come in yesterday asking if there was any work around to be done”, Jack said as he stood, forgoing a greeting entirely as he dug out a piece of bread and cheese for René, “A mercenary by the looks of him. Said he’s willing to take on any work that might come his way.”

René perked up as the old man kept talking, accepting his breakfast without grumbling this time. “Is he still in town?”, he asked eagerly, a spark of hope igniting in his chest. Jack smiled at him, nodding, “Indeed, right upstairs. Second door to the left.”

The bread and cheese still in hand, René stood and hurried back up the stairs. He tucked strands of long, silken black hair behind his ear in an attempt to make himself more presentable, rubbed the last bits of sleep out of his bright green eyes and with a fluttering heart knocked on the dark wooden door. He looked a far cry from the always groomed heir of the du Bellay family, but he had attempted to keep himself presentable. René’s naturally soft features and good looks did not make it too hard.

“Sir? Apologies for the disruption, but I heard you’re looking for work”, he called out through the door, carefully hopeful, “I have a job you’ll be paid handsomely for if you’ll accept it.”

 

[LustfulSins]

Thorne

Valeia's revolution affected a lot of people. And yet some, not at all. For peasant-raised Thorne, life didn't change much. People still needed mercenaries, bodyguards, someone to guard their wares. Sometimes to hunt down a thief or killer. Thorne never cared who hired him, whether it was nobles, merchants, or revolutionaries. They all paid him with the same coin. That's not to say Thorne is blind to what's happening in Valeia, he just doesn't care. The country never paid him any favors, so why he?

Thorne recently found himself in South Valeia, a town called Daie. He had arrived the previous night, rented a room at the only inn in town. His intention had been to visit the market street the following morning to see if anyone would hire him. If not, he would move on to the next town. Thorne rarely stays in one place more than a day, unless he's on a hired job. He's nearly finished dressing, his leather cloak-jacket in hand, when there's a knock on the door of his rented room. Thorne halts all movement, watching the door, as the soft voice sounds from the other side. A job that would pay handsomely? He's heard that before, but it won't hurt to here the person out.

Thorne walks over to pull the door open, staring down at the young man outside. Not what he had expected. Pretty for a man, long hair and soft features. For his part, Thorne is almost opposite. Six foot six, short red hair that nearly covers pale hazel eyes. A sharp jawline, broad shoulders leading into muscular arms littered with small scars. Thorne's chosen dress is leather; sleeveless top that fit comfortably to his muscled torso, leather pants to match, a pair of laced knee-high leather boots with a thick, sturdy sole. Primarily black, though there's red stitching along the hem of the top and down the outer seam of the leather pants.

"What sort of job?" Thorne's voice isn't overly deep, but it does have a rough, gravelly quality to it. It's not a natural roughness, and likely comes from an old injury. Thorne moves away from the door, a silent invitation for the boy to come in. He resumes dressing, pulling his jacket on his arms. It's designed with hidden buttons down the front, fronm neck to waist, to pull the jacket closed tight around his body. From the waist, it flares out like a cloak would, open down the front and reaching to the ground. The jacket is edged in red, with a red line along the shoulders and biceps, and around the elbows as well. A red segmented diamond is stitched on the front of the jacket, Thorne's chosen emblem. As he waits for the boy to answer his question, Thorne picks up a slip of white stretchy fabric and pulls it over his head. He settles it around his neck, adjusting the back of his jacket collar to sit over it.