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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Jcb112 on 2025-12-07 20:41:37+00:00.
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The Nexus. Near the Geographic Center of the North Rythian Forests. Just Outside the Dragon’s Lair. Local Time: 2045 Hours.
Thalmin
It began with a ripple.
Then a gentle but pathetic nudge.
It was as if my aura was being prodded with a feather and tugged at with velvet gloves, all with the strength and ferocity of a malnourished runt.
I’d scarcely even understood what the shatorealmer was attempting until he finally started to get ‘serious.’
At which point I couldn’t help but break out into a grin, standing up to match the shatorealmer’s height… before exceeding it, crossing my arms with a confidence my uncle would’ve disapproved of.
The would-be mercenary was attempting a scry, poking, prodding, and nudging at the local manastreams, all in a vain attempt at assessing exactly who and what it was they were up against.
It took every ounce of restraint I had not to overwhelm this pathetic excuse of a Nexian collaborator. It required a willful attempt at recognizing my uncle’s stern words — specifically following the incident at the Portside Tavern — not to simply stun, incapacitate, or outright blind the chosen one’s manasense, if only to maintain the intelligence advantage. To ensure that we could dictate the narrative of this encounter.
Revealing our hand would have locked us into an awkward position, but then again… there was a high likelihood these mercenaries would’ve recognized me all the same.
It all depended on just how well-read they were… which was difficult to say just based on a cursory inspection.
The adventurers in Elaseer had the benefit of proximity — and, by extension, familiarity — to all things adjacent.
But I knew not just how familiar this particular mercenary outfit was with said matters.
Regardless, Uncle’s lessons were pertinent all the same.
It was best to not show one’s hand, at least not in the opening moves of a battle.
My only wish was for Emma to have been able to witness this futility, to truly bear witness to the non-threats we faced.
Or at least, those were my opening thoughts, up until the elf finally entered the fray.
His scries… were far more effective.
Still a ways away from our contemporaries back in the Academy, but leagues above the pathetic, half-hearted proddings of the shatorealmer.
I actually had to make an effort to conceal my aura this time around. The results of which… proved to be enough to garner a raise of a brow from the otherwise jester-faced captain.
“I will only say this once more…” He spoke with a growing suspicion. “Exactly who are you, and why are you here?”
There was no more use in delaying the inevitable.
Just as there was no more use in playing hide the bandana from the hand fate had dealt us.
“Heh. That first question’s smart, I’ll give ya that.” I responded with a gruffer twang in my cadence, taking a step forward to close the distance. “But that second question?” I paused, letting out a series of gravelly ‘tsks’ in the process. “Not so much, friend. Not so much.”
The tension in the air spiked to an unbearable degree, so much so that the shatorealmer’s posture stiffened, their eyes peering nervously towards the Captain’s.
“Oh? Is that so?” The Captain responded in that annoyingly playful sing-song cadence, each word bouncing back and forth as if ready to break into song.
“‘Dunno, don’t much care, ‘cause that’s yer problem. Thing is, a man like you is smart enough to figure out the why of things.” I paused, pointing bluntly towards the dragon’s lair before deftly shifting a thumb towards my armored chest. “So the question now becomes — do you really wanna know the who?”
Another silence descended on the scene, interrupted only by the whinnying of Aquastride and a solid gulp from the shatorealmer.
The elf, meanwhile — and very much to his credit — remained stone-faced, bearing only the slightest of amused expressions as he finally let out a disquieting sigh following a good five seconds of contemplation.
“‘Course I do.” He responded, dropping a word as he flip-flopped between High Nexian and a bastardized ‘merc-speak’ pidgin. “Because either ‘yer a real problem, or a bunch’a idiots. Either way, that makes you my problem.” The elf reached inside his jacket, producing a crown warrant the likes of which looked far, far more serious than the warrants Sym showed us belonging to those dragon-hunting adventurers. “The forest is off limits, if you haven’t heard. So tell me… who sent you? Or are you dumb enough to risk crown penalties for your own glory?”
“Who says it can’t be both?” I responded cryptically, putting all cards into the bluff as I channeled in elements of my sister’s… and admittedly, Ilunor’s penchant for theatrics.
This finally tripped something in the elf’s head, as his eyes narrowed, his face grew stoic, and his stance tightened.
The shatorealmer’s eyes shot warily back and forth between us, their anxiety reaching a fever pitch, prompting me to ready a battle stance—
“Ha… BWAhaHAHAHAHAHAH!”
—but not before the elf could completely defuse the situation with a boisterous, surprisingly earnest laugh.
“Oh… oh, I’ve missed talking to a fellow raconteur!” He beamed, lifting a white-gloved hand to wipe away a single forceful tear. “Quite daring, I should say, to pull such a stunt with a clearly powerful stranger at that…” He paused to gesture towards himself and the mercenary party busying about closer to the dragon’s lair. “Which means that regardless of whether you are fools or truly… problems, I should be rid of you posthaste.” He grinned toothily before raising a single hand towards us.
I braced for a strike, and so did Emma; however, instead of any fire, lightning, or telekinetics… nothing came.
“And what better way to be rid of potential competition than to simply join forces under the same cause?” The elf’s hand straightened out into an open-palmed handshake. “Listen stranger, I am not what most would describe as a… charitable man. But what I am is a man who recognizes an opportunity to increase the odds of a job well done. And right now? I’m seeing a path where all of us can win. You’re here for the dragon, that much is clear. But what exactly are you here for? The gold reward? The title of dragonslayer? The dragon itself…?” He paused menacingly at that latter line before quickly moving forward. “Or perhaps something else entirely?”
“Nothing that you’re clearly here for, it seems.” I offered bluntly, presenting the self-important Captain with a third option. “To put it simply, we’re here to harvest its crystals. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Which means that our interests do not conflict.” The Captain remarked thoughtfully, his hand still outstretched. “In fact, it aligns quite well if you ask me… we both desire something from this unsightly beast. You, a poacher’s trinket. And I, the whole kit and caboodle. So with that being said, why don’t we make a deal. Two clearly well-equipped and talented hands in temporary service over the duration of this venture. For some trivial amethyst shards.”
I narrowed my eyes, crossing my arms tighter before letting out a disinterested huff. “And if I refuse?”
“You won’t gain access to the dragon.” The Captain replied bluntly but civilly. Though his next few words quickly dipped into that typical Nexian venom. “And I will have no qualms with reporting you and your… golem compatriot there to the appropriate authorities.”
That ultimatum hung in the air for just over a second before I reached a hand out but stopped just short of a shake. “We dictate our own actions, no matter how involved or distant.”
“Yes, yes, yes. Full autonomy.” The Captain acquiesced as we both gripped hands with a respective second’s hesitation. “Moreover, if anyone asks, I will simply mention I met two freelancers on the way to the cave. It will be as if you were never here.”
Emma
I didn’t like this guy. Not one bit.
This was despite him doing everything right.
The red flags weren’t so red when it came to him, especially as he’d reacted… surprisingly rationally to the back-and-forths with Thalmin.
He’d confronted us as any merc boss would, escalated the interaction as the situation demanded, and even offered an off-ramp in the form of an acceptable compromise, de-escalating instead of going full murder-hobo as most Castles and Wyverns player parties would have done.
The only real downside to his actions thus far was his coercion tactics, doubling down on his superior leverage by hammering home how cooperation — under his purview — was the only way for us to accomplish our objectives.
Though honestly, that was pretty tame in the grand scheme of Nexian assholery.
Even so, there was something about the guy that just didn’t sit right with me. But maybe that was just my Nexian bias speaking. This whole adventure did prove that there were ‘decent’ Nexians out there, Lord L’Sips being one ...
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