“Well, I can’t leave the desk, but I can give you some directions. No wonder you were lost—you can’t read any of the signs, can you? Your people normally stick to the north; Esthelm’s as far as most get. What brings you out so far? Oh, and what are you looking for?”
“—But you truly aren’t from Izril, Miss Ryoka. The north has a strained relationship with the south, which I think you should bear in mind if ever you go past Esthelm and deliver to a Drake city. Not that there’s anywhere safe but Liscor. Unless the Bloodfields have opened up, Ressa?”
“The Bloodfields run? It’s not something I’d do often, but I have a bunch of ore from Esthelm and Invrisil’s latest fads. It’ll be gold for copper—if the Bloodfields are quiet. I’m bound straight for either Hectval to unload the ore or, if they don’t want what I’m selling, Pallass’ steelworks.”
Hm. Let’s see. I’ve ditched Fals and the rest of the jackasses that call themselves Runners. That’s a good first step. Now, Celum is a ways away from the High Passes. Only two cities are actually in the High Passes, Esthelm and Liscor, although they’re in the safe route with roads and far fewer monsters, not the untamed wilds.
“They’re all out of the city. Calruz came by and gathered all the members. Apparently, they’re going to Esthelm to prepare to enter the ruins in Liscor.”
The Runner girl thought about what Persua’s reaction to the day’s events would be. Not to mention the local Adventurer’s Guild. They would not be happy to learn one of their own had been beaten by a civilian, let alone a Runner. Garia shuddered and thought that maybe she would take a few long distance requests this week. Probably towards Esthelm, but at the very least away from Celum.
The cafeteria is essentially one far wall with a noisy kitchen partially exposed to the room and a long counter where adventurers can pay for food without having to make their way to an inn. The Adventurer’s Guild in Esthelm is even big enough to have quite a few rooms for rent like the one Ceria was staying in. I suppose it all makes sense—you can earn even more money feeding the people who kill monsters for you.
The adventurers in Esthelm were nothing if not admiring of someone with spirit. Half of them egged Ryoka on, laughing and cheering as she advanced on Yvlon while the other half bet whether she’d even manage to strike the other woman’s face.
Running away. And oh—but in the grief, in her self-destructive wake, her friends, if she had any, were waiting for her to return. But another group, a trio, followed Ryoka out of Esthelm, jogging onwards with no forgiveness or sympathy in their hearts.
