A brown-haired man, sitting alone at a table in the corner of the Wilwarin pub, gave a deep sigh as he stared around the room. Why did he always find himself back here? This godforsaken Inn was just about the only place he was ever found when he wasn't off on a job. Why could he never go out and just have fun? He wasn't that old, after all...he was only like, what? In his twenties?

Damn, I've even forgotten how old I am. That's pretty sad.

After some heavy thought, the mercenary managed to determine that he was twenty years old. But just the fact that he had to think about that disturbed him. His militaristic lifestyle was clearly beginning to take it's toll. He was already hated by most civilians, but now he was forgetting things about himself? Sure, how old he was didn't really matter, but what if he began to forget other things, like his mother's name, his father's name. those kinds of things? Was he destined to become nothing more than a soulless soldier? To rot away, risking his life just for money? It seemed silly, really. He used that money to buy food and board, things that were, ironically enough, necessary for life. So he risked his life...to live. Bit of an oxymoron, was it not?

"Can I get you anything, sir?"

Lyon glanced up to see a young serving girl, come to take his order. Lyon shrugged nonchalantly. "Water," he muttered simply, and looked back down, immersing himself in his self-deprecating thoughts.

Of course, there's no point to criticizing myself, is there? he thought within the confines of his mind. It won't get me anywhere. A mercenary is taught to be practical...and these silly thoughts are nothing but senseless blather.

Sighing again, the mercenary's hand dropped down to the sword on his hip. Could he go nowhere without the accursed thing? Why had he ever shackled himself to such a restricted life in the first place?

"Because you had no choice," he muttered to himself quietly. It wasn't exactly true, he hadn't been forced into the trade, but when he had wandered into Estolad five years ago, he had been hopelessly lost and without hope of finding a job. Kiem had taken him in, fed him, taught him how to fight.

And now here he was, alone in a pub.

"Strange, usually at this point people start feeling sorry for the lonely guy and come to talk to me," Lyon said aloud, looking around. Perhaps there would finally be a day when people simply left him alone to his thoughts? That would be a blessed godsend indeed. Lyon leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, trying to make himself oblivious to the sounds and smells around him. With luck, he would be able to take a little nap...

The sun was heavily setting, and the clouds were lovely shades of pink and orange. Amaria covered her mouth quickly as a yawn erupted from her lips. Nightfall was coming before her and she needed sleep, she knew. She roamed the city that she had discovered earlier in the day. Her katana slapped against her side lightly with every step she took. Her sun stained hair swayed behind her. Any trace of a thought raced through her mind at quick speeds. Most of the thoughts having to do with things she didn't want to think about. Like how she would eat tonight, since she had no more money. Or perhaps how she would achieve her next job, and if she would achieve it in this city.


Her life had definately not been an easy one... easy would be an exhaggeration. From the day she was born to the day that she was released from the training center, she had always been on her own. She had never had help from anyone, and she had always survived. She didn't have the best of people skills, but she was at least slightly outgoing and very polite. She had decided many times that she was fine on her own... but she was now beginning to question all of the years that she had been alone on her journey through the world.


She sighed deeply and placed her hands on her hips, glancing at buildings she passed. It wasn't long before she set her eyes upon exactly what she was looking for. An Inn. It definately wasn't the best place she had ever slept, but it was a place to sleep, and it was all she needed until her travel to the next town. She slowly made her way into the Inn to discover the inside had a pub. She cursed herself in her head. Dammit, Amaria just had to spend all her money on food from the last trip. She would not be drinking tonight, unfortunately. Not that she needed to at all, she definately had a bit of a drinking problem.


She glanced around before walking slowly to the front desk. She had noticed that there was not very much energy emitting from the building that she had walked into. In fact, it seemed to be the worst negative energy she had received in a long time. She glanced around and noticed that it was coming from a young man at one of the tables in the room. He looked to be very... sad. She smiled and clapped her hands together, walking toward him.

"Sir? Amaria seemed to notice that you are alone. Might Amaria sit with you then? For she is alone as well, aye sir." She grinned a most promising grin, and without a reply from him pulled out a chair from the table of which he was sitting and sat in it.

Ah, just as I knew would happen. Here comes some sympathizer now.

So thought Lyon as he watched a blond-haired girl, who seemed to be only a teenager, approach him. Great, now he would be forced into conversation. Why could no one ever just let him take a nap? Why did they always have to bother him? Couldn't they see from his expression that he didn't want to talk!? A frown normally was supposed to keep people away, but lately it didn't seem very effective.

"Sir? I've seemed to notice that you are alone. Might Amaria sit with you then? For she is alone as well, aye sir."

Lyon didn't even look at her directly, instead watching her out of the corner of his eye. He shrugged noncommittally, but shared with her some harsh words. "Alone, huh? Some people would think of that as a blessing. ...Whatever, go ahead. I'm not stopping you."

As she sat down at the table, Lyon, from habit, scanned over every detail of this stranger with a trained and expert eye. She didn't look too strong, but appearances could certainly be deceiving, and she did seem to carry the katana at her side with an air of confidence. He couldn't spot any other, hidden weapons, but that didn't mean they weren't there. He would need to be careful, in the case that one of his former employer's enemies wanted to settle a grudge and had hired someone to take him out.

Lyon watched her with eyebrows raised, impatiently waiting for her to say whatever the heck it was she wanted to say. People didn't just walk up to him and sit down at the same table for no reason. They always had something to say. Always. Normally, it was a proposal for a new contract. In this case, though, that seemed unlikely. He continued staring at her as the waitress returned with his glass of water, and he took a deep drink from it while still holding vigil.

"Alone, huh? Some people would think of that as a blessing. ...Whatever, go ahead. I'm not stopping you."


The words that came from the man suprised Amaria, and she looked directly into his face. Of doing so, she noticed that he had been staring at her... well of course he was, her intrusion was quite odd.

She gazed upon him intently. The lights from the walls of the Inn shown bright against his face, and she almost at once recognized his eyes, which were a deep blue. His face was shaped in a way that most people would recognize as muscular, and his arms and body structure seemed to be the exact same way. Then she noticed his sword...

Amaria grinned and looked at the front desk, then back at the man. "This one is a traveler... a rerouni if you will. And this one has seemed to notice that you might be in need of some assistance... or maybe it is only company that you need." She chuckled.

A man was now standing behind the front desk, and Amaria looked back and examined him. She thought for a moment before deciding that the man, if he was the owner of the pub and inn, might be able to give her a job to do around the place. She undoubtedly let out a sigh, not really noticing that she had let it out.

Before a word from the man, she stood and smiled hopefully at the man at the front desk. "Kind sir, this one is looking for a job, mind you, and was wondering if you would let her work in your inn for your fine beer..?" She turned back to the brown-headed man she had spoken to and laughed suddenly.

She cocked a half smile and held out a hand from across the table. "This one's name is Amaria, it be. Might she ask for your name in return, sir?"

"Assistance, huh?" the mercenary grunted out, leaning back in his chair as he folded his arms to his chest and gazed at the young woman, this time openly. "The only thing I need is my blade. Everything else is just a hindrance. As for company..." Lyon shrugged again. "Doesn't matter to me one way or another." Whether or not this was true, however, was a mystery. His mind had been filled with discontent lately, and he had not yet determined the source of the confusing feeling. Whatever it was, he wished it would go away. It was making it hard for him to concentrate on his work, which, in his profession, was deadly.

"This one's name is Amaria, it be. Might she ask for your name in return, sir?"

Lyon was shaken away from his thoughts as this strange girl laughed and asked him this question. He contemplated this for a few moments, then decided it was safe. His name wasn't that closely held of a secret; after all, the only way mercenaries were able to gain reputation and prestige was if people knew their names.

"Lyon Camaris, mercenary by trade and nature," he said to her, though didn't bother to take her proffered hand and shake it. It was a silly and pointless custom among civilized men, dating back from a time when one couldn't be trusted and had to show their hands to prove they were unarmed. Lyon was experienced enough to know that just because a potential enemy wasn't holding a weapon didn't mean that they didn't have one. Besides, it was far too friendly of a greeting, and he didn't even know this girl.

Even so, upon hearing her ask the bartender if she could possibly find a job here, Lyon reached into his pocket and casually tossed a few coins onto the table. "Don't bother with that, just take it. I've got plenty of money, even if the means by which I received it are filthy..."

The mercenary trailed off, his tone bitter. By the gods, why was this bothering him so much? He had been a sellsword for two years. Two years! Never once had he felt any guilt, any regret, any remorse. And now, all of sudden, he had been struck by a tidal wave of all three of these emotions.

As the man, Lyon, didn't take her offered hand, she slowly pulled it back and away from the table. She was suprised when all of a sudden he had dumped coins for her onto the table. She hadn't been the only one suprised, as one of the servant girls and the keeper of the inn was staring intently upon the gold as well.

"Don't bother with that, just take it. I've got plenty of money, even if the means by which I received it are filthy..."

Amaria gazed up at him, and a smile slowly approached her face. She brushed her golden hair from her face and sighed. "It's quite alright, sir. This one would like you to know that she doesn't take money unless it is from bastards." She grinned to herself, sitting back down in the chair.

"This one is definately not the type of greed, aye sir. She works hard for her money or she doesn't have any at all." She said, half wondering why. Well, of course she knew why... it was because of pride... it was because she had honor, and justice. It was because she had been taught not to take things that she didn't deserve, and now she did not deserve the gold that Lyon had spread across the table for her.

She glanced back up at him for a brief moment before she realized that her stomach was making odd noises. Well, no suprise really... she hadn't eaten in what seemed to her to be a day and a half. Though she wasn't certain, as she didn't keep up with times and dates very well. Either way she was hungry. She looked across the room to the keeper from the front desk and smiled.

"So, have you decided to take up this one's offer? This one sure could use some food in her stomach, she most certainly thinks so." She chuckled. The keeper put on what seemed to be a frown. "You have to work hard for free food here." He said. Amaria sighed. "Of course, of course! Most definately." She nodded quickly.

Lyon sighed and shrugged when his offer was refused. So, the one time he tried to be kind and generous, he was turned down? Figured. The girl was probably full of self-inflated pride and other such nonsense. Useless, all of it. Where did pride and honor get you in life? Did it feed you when you were starving? Did it keep you alive in the wilderness? No, it did not. Idealistic virtues did nothing but hold a practical person down. He who took advantage of whatever situation fate threw at him was he who would survive to fight another day.

Of course, all of these thoughts were nothing but melodramatic nonsense. If she didn't want to take his money, it was her choice. He calmly swept the bronzed coins back into a pocket in his cloak, and resumed his former stance, though he now looked curiously at the bartender to see what his response would be to the girl's question. The Wilwarin would probably need the extra help. The well-known inn was the most famous in Lomedor, and was by far the most frequented by travelers. Lyon himself stayed here, able to keep up with the costs due to the constant flow of money he received from employers. These were dangerous times, mercenaries were in high demand.

"Suit yourself, lady. If you want to work your arse off, instead of being able to sit back and relax, go right ahead." His input really wasn't necessary, but the mercenary had found that the interruption this woman had caused was quite effective in keeping him from his thoughts, which he truly had no desire to return to. Mercenaries weren't supposed to think, they were supposed to act solely on instinct. Good reflexes and intuition was what kept him alive, not sitting on his butt for hours on end, thinking about things that in the long run would prove useless to him.

I really do think too much, Lyon conceded in his head, scowling at the thought. It was only because he never had anything to do, unless he was off on a job. The rest of time, he just sat around...bored as hell...

Amaria continued her gaze upon the man she had offered her next job to, content with what he would probably say, as she had seen the bustling of the streets that she had been out on only an hour or so ago.

"Suit yourself, lady. If you want to work your arse off, instead of being able to sit back and relax, go right ahead."

Amaria's eyes shot back to Lyon as he said so, making her frown slightly. "This one does thank you sir, aye very much, for your kind offer..." She trailed off, unsure of what to say or do next. "But she is perfectly capable of receiving pay, even if it is not money at all." She said, her smile returning.

His eyes seemed to peirce through to her soul, and she feared for another second to look at them... it almost seemed as though he could see right through her, as though he could tell exactly what she was, and what she was thinking. Her smile slowly faded, and she had to turn away, as she was caught off guard by her thoughts.

The keeper came out from the front desk with a grin on his face. "Alright, I'll let you work here for food and sleep as payment, okay?" He almost mumbled out the words. "So, do me a little task if you want your payment to begin tonight..?"

She looked back at him and smiled. "Of course, sir. This one would love to be of service to you." She said, standing from the table again.

The barkeep began to mumble again, "Go out back and fetch me the small barrels of gin to keep on the counter for tonight." Amaria looked back at Lyon and was able to put on her smile once again. "Sure thing, sir."

She began to step outside before glancing back at the loner sitting at the table. "Might this one be able to ask for your help in fetching the barrels, sir?" She smirked.

What!?

Oh, hell no! She was not going to drag him into this! Why in the name of Lothlomendil would he even consider helping her? Giving her his money was one thing, but he was not going to just get up and spare his sweat and energy trying to help her get food. It made no sense, really. Why would she not accept money, and yet she asked for help? What a very strange girl.

"...Oh, fine!" he snapped out quickly, going against all the thoughts that had just swarmed through his head. "Not like I have anything better to do, anyway. But I guarantee you, this is a one time thing. Got that?" Grumbling, he stood up and stumped past her to the door which would lead back into the storage room. Glancing back at her, he raised his eyebrows and tapped his foot impatiently.

"Coming?" he asked snidely. The mercenary knew he was being a jerk, but he couldn't help it. All these strange emotions raining down on him lately, and now some girl came barging in and acted like she could ask favors of him. She really needed to learn her place, and fast, or she could get herself into some serious trouble.

"Why do you talk like that, anyway?" he asked, this time based off of actual curiosity. Sure, there were people that didn't receive a good education in their youth, but this girl, despite her apparent ignorance, didn't seem stupid. Maybe the Common Tongue was a second language for her?

The mercenary waited outside the door, determined to make this girl (she had said her name was Amaria, had she not?) enter first.

Ladies first, right? he thought inside his head, though the thought was based more off of sarcasm than courtesy.

The man, Lyon, had seemed very irritated at her request to come and help her. After his rudeness and attitude, he stood from the table and was on his way to the door.

She couldn't help but notice the way he walked, which was more of a stride really. The walk that he carried was confident, yet somehow undetermined, as it seemed to Amaria. His negative energy surrounded him, and was the thing that he seemed to live off of. Without it, she wondered what this man was truly like. His mysterious and sulken face proved that his past had probably been slightly disoriented. She smiled to herself at this, as she was most likely exhaggerating. Anyone who carries a frown the way that this man does has most likely had a very bad past. She thought to herself.

"Why do you talk like that, anyway?"

She heard him say this as he was opening the door to the storage room and she looked at him suddenly. That had almost caught her off guard, as her smile had jolted right off of her face. But within a few seconds of rethinking the question, the smile returned.

"There is a long line of ancestry in the way that this one speaks, aye. Rerounis are taught at birth everything from those that the ancestors were taught. It is a very difficult thing to explain, this one guesses. But if you learned from birth how to speak in a certain way like this one, then you would certainly understand." She explained, grinning at him.

She bowed slightly as he opened the door and allowed her inside first. He was carrying a snide look on his face, and she could tell that he was most definately irritated beyond all reasoning. But she only smirked at him on her way through the door.

Once inside of the storage room, there were many, many boxes and barrels and such scattered around the room. She looked around the room carefully, trying to spot what barrels she was looking for.

She smiles too much, Lyon thought as Amaria passed by him with a smirk. What does she think I am, her little slave? Girl better watch what she says, or I might just get angry...

"Rerouni?" the mercenary repeated quizzically. The name was unfamiliar to him. What was that, some kind of wild tribe? Lyon was quite knowledgeable about the world, as a mercenary had to be in order to survive, so the fact that he had never heard of whatever this girl spoke of disturbed him. Nevertheless, he didn't press her for details. It really didn't matter to him. Heck, she could be descended from field mice and it wouldn't make the slightest difference to him. He didn't intend to see this girl, or even talk to her further, once this was over.

I better get some of the credit for this.

Following the blond-haired female into the storage room, he looked around exasperatedly at the many boxes and barrels in the room. "What are we supposed to be getting?" he asked, giving her a sidelong look. "I wasn't paying attention, seeing as how I wasn't expecting you to drag me along."

Lyon frowned at the tone his voice had taken. Now who was the one being prideful? Hell, it couldn't hurt to do something productive other than killing people. Maybe it would even do him some good. Keep him from thinking, make him concentrate on the work at hand. There wasn't any need for him to be so rude...

In any case, his attitude hadn't seemed to bother the girl so far. Normally, people would've learned to leave him alone at this point. Yet, she just kept going on and on and on...

The girl was gonna end up getting herself killed one day for her boldness, the mercenary was willing to bet his sword on it.

The room was many shades more dim than the room that they had been in before, and a slight chill ran down Amaria's spine. The temperature seemed to drop a few degrees, and there were no windows to support the evening sun.

Amaria laughed to herself after hearing the questionably "Rerouni?" from the man. "Yes, rerouni. Well... you know, a traveling swordsman?" She stopped for a second before correcting herself, "Well, for this one a swords'woman'." She smirked.

After the man had entered behind her, she looked back, frowned, and walked over to close the door behind them. After this, she took a small light hanging on the wall and began to look around with it.


"What are we supposed to be getting?" he asked, giving her a sidelong look. "I wasn't paying attention, seeing as how I wasn't expecting you to drag me along."



Her eyes returned to him after hearing this, and a grin appeared on her lips. "Gin, this one believes he said." She nodded. She thought for a moment before almost deciding her next words.

"Sir, you have the most negative energy that this one has ever come into contact with." She said with another smirk, turning to the boxes and barrels once again. She almost anticipated his next move... the very words he would say next. He would be just like any of the other people that had gotten to hear her words... the fear would come shortly after suprise...

When he saw Amaria walk over and close the door, cutting them off from the sounds of the pub, he immediately, out of instinct, discreetly reached down beneath his cloak to his belt, where he took hold of his small dagger, prepared to use it in an instant. But the strange girl made no move to attack, she simply began looking around. Lyon watched her suspiciously. What was she up to?

"Ah, right, that was it," Lyon responded when she answered his question. He began to examine the many barrels strewn about, looking at the labels on the side of them to find what he was looking for. Upon feeling eyes on him, the mercenary stopped in the middle of his inspection and glanced up to find this "rerni", or whatever the heck it was called, staring at him. He glared back with just as much intensity, wandering what the heck she wanted now. Probably some more god-forsaken slave labor. Her time with those "Roni" people must have given her this idea that she was able to ask people to do things for her. Well, she would be sorely disappointed in the real world.

"Sir, you have the most negative energy that this one has ever come into contact with."

Lyon raised his eyebrows. "I beg your pardon?" he asked, standing up and leaning against a stack of crates. "What in the name of all-bladed hell is that supposed to mean?" He shook his head exasperatedly, tired of all this foolishness, and turned back to continue looking for the required substance. This female kept coming out with the weirdest things. She was stranger and more unpredictable than Hattie, and Hattie was a talking cat!

This girl has some serious issues. Why is it that I'm always the one that runs into the wackos? Guess it comes with the job...

Of course, the mercenary said none of this aloud.

Turning back to the man, she was suprised to see him in a strange pose. Almost as if he were fixing to fend for his life. She did nothing but laugh to herself and continue to search through the boxes, thrown about the room.

"What in the name of all-bladed hell is that supposed to mean?"


After her comment, she was suprised to hear him ask so bluntly what she had meant. Most people had been at least a little creeped out. Her thoughts ran into something that she had never felt in this situation, which was somehow fear.

After thinking for a moment or two, she gathered up the words that she needed to explain. She cleared her throat softly. "If you are only human, then this one supposes that you weren't able to sense that she is a demon." She said, chuckling to herself.

"This one's power is to drain energy of others. Not enough to kill them of course, just enough to make them weak. So, of course this one can sense wave lengths of energy from people. And when this one walked into this Inn, your negative energy was enough to make her sick." She laughed, sticking out her tongue.

Unsure of what the man would think, there was really no reason not to tell him. Amaria had already decided that if a man had negative energy as high as his, he definately needed to know about it somehow...

She stopped before walking past a few barrels that were labeled "GIN", and she grabbed one. "Ah, here's the gin!" She exclaimed. There were not near as heavy as she had thought they would be, but she still needed a way to get him alone long enough to discuss the issue at hand.

Lyons eyes flashed dangerously. "A demon, huh?' he repeated, his outer appearance calm, but his mind suddenly on full alert. The mercenary had nothing against demons. As a matter of fact, he was half demon himself, though it wasn't something he'd ever admit to. It wasn't that he was ashamed of his demonic blood, he simply wished to avoid the stereotyping that came with the race, and the prejudice that came with being a half-breed. Besides, he barely took after his father at all. For all intents and purposes, he was practically human.

What she said next unnerved him, but he didn't let it show. Negative energy? He had never heard of a kind of demon that focused on the absorption of energy, but then, he was certainly not an expert in that area. He raised his eyebrows at her last comment.

"Make you sick, do I?" he asked, leaning against the wall again with his arms crossed. "I seem to have that affect on people a lot. ...No matter. You surely have a reason for telling me this. Spit it out, woman. I'm all ears."

Of course, the girl could be making it all up. It seemed silly, but she appeared to be no older than eighteen. Teenagers had strange senses of humor. Doubtless one would find something like this funny. For all he knew, this was just some big stupid joke. If that was the case, this girl would find herself very sorry for deciding to mess with him. Something like this was to be taken seriously. And if it was true, this girl would need to learn to hold her tongue. Demon hunters were everywhere, he was surprised she was still alive if she ran around bragging about her heritage like that.