“Gods damn him!” Her eyes flared as she paced the room. Cramming things into her bags, she gathered up everything she could as quickly as possible. Her wiry frame moved from shelf to shelf, with no real concern for organization. “Uuuuugh!” she screamed into the air. She dropped the bag in her hand and raked her fingers through her short green hair. No one was supposed to be able to make her second guess her work. But he was different. He had always had her back when it mattered. 8 years they worked together. Their only mission failures due to others mistakes. Poor planning or faulty intel was usually the cause.
Sitting down for a moment, she picked up a notebook. She tore out a single page and wrote out two words. At the bottom, the symbol she used for herself in communications. She rolled it up and called the courier outside to carry it to the usual place. He scuttled off without a word. Then she went back to her “packing” a touch calmer, but still pissed as fel.
Hearing the leather bag hit the floor in the upper room, Hulfdan sighed. No one just walked in and made themselves at home. Well, no one but Eliân. Shaking his head, he climbed up the stone steps to find her standing there. Her arms were crossed, with a look on her face that could end a life if the wrong things were said. “Well, lass. That’s a fine how do you do after a year away. What assed up this time?” he said while pouring out two large mugs of ale. He set them down on the table and sat down. He thick black eyebrows raised slightly in question as he took a long swallow from his cup.
“Northwind! Of all people, Northwind! My fel damned partner for fuck’s sake!” She downed the mug in one go, refilling it before she settled down into the other chair. “He went and quit. I was sent after him and now I’ve quit. Fel fucked asshole!” She dropped her head down onto the table and rolled it back and forth, muttering.
A heavy chuckle came from the dwarf beside her. “Ye’ knew it was comin’ lass. He’s ben having troubles fer some time now. Ya wrote me ‘bout it a few times.” He took another swallow before continuing. “Question now is, what will you be doin’ about it?”
Eliân picked up her head with a heavy sigh. “I’ve got no idea. SI:7 was ideal. It was a good fit. Good money too. Anything I wanted or needed was handled. Now all I got is my savings and my gear. I can’t go back to Teldrassil, I simply cannot.” She threw her hands in the air and grunted.
“Hmmmm,” was all the old dwarf said.
The chamber was small, scrolls tucked into a little shelf by a worn desk. Magni sat behind it, his face still as the earth itself. Eliân stood, silent and emotionless as she waited for the King to speak. After what seemed an eternity of them staring at each other, he stood. Over half her height, he was tall for his race, but she did her best to not comment on it. He walked around he, seemingly taking her measure. “Hmph,” he grunted as he stepped back in front of her. He motioned for her to sit and she did so. “Are ye as good as Hulfdan tells me?”
“Probably better. He’s not seen me work in a number of years, Sire.” She shrugged and pulled out a thin dagger. “That valuable?” She gestured to the painting on the wall.
“I couldn’t care less about it. Wall just needed some…” her dagger flew past his nose and planted precisely between the eyes of the woman pictured before he noticed the elf move. He nodded, his approval evident. “Well then lass. I think perhaps we should give you a small job to test your skills.”