Thank you for taking the time to read my work, it has been a long hiatus but I have decided to try writing again.

Thank you for taking the time to read my work, it has been a long hiatus but I have decided to try writing again. This is a story in a different genre than my previous work, but I hope that my old supporters enjoy it still, and that those new to my stories find it to their tastes. Thank you once again. The mood was high in the Itchy Fiddler, with loud voices and the thudding of ale mugs on wood despite the hour of day. The tavern was infamous for the clientèle it kept, but the reputation was not all bad. Sure, you would expect the risk of being dragged into a brawl on every other evening, but if you kept your head down you were mostly left alone. Unless someone thought you weren't drinking enough, that is. However, despite the bad rap that the place got from those that considered themselves 'above' such locations, everyone knew that if you needed a bodyguard? This was the place to go. Here, everyone that boasted about their capabilities could actually prove their skills, and everyone that sought to ply their trade there went through rigorous testing. As such, anyone seeking a pair of eyes to watch them and their goods? They would get their gold's worth in value. This was why Orlando Rosson had entered the establishment, nerves on edge. He stuck out like a sore thumb, with his well-kept merchant's clothes, blonde wavy hair that ran down the sides of his face and collected in a tail at the back past his shoulder-blades, and the stylish hat that perched on top of his head. He could also tell that almost everyone inside the tavern had close to double the muscle mass of his own body, which made him very self-conscious. Steeling himself, he stepped through the common hall towards the counter, leaning on it with one elbow in an attempt to fit in. The man behind the counter, a dwarf with a ruddy black beard and thick eyebrows threw the newcomer a glance, setting down the mug he had been wiping out. He did not speak. Orlando swallowed and tried to make his voice authoritative, but it cracked half-way through due to his nerves."I am here in search of someone to protect me and my cart." He blushed, frustrated with his bad first impression. "The table over there." The dwarven man pointed towards a group that was easily the rowdiest in the entire tavern, several ale mugs on the worn table and a couple on the floor. The man's voice was gravelly, like stone going through a grinder. "Don't expect it to come cheap." He then turned back to wiping the mug, no longer engaged with the stranger since he wasn't buying anything. Orlando followed the man's finger to look over at the group of four that were seated at the table. Two of them, a tiefling woman with an eye-patch, and a halfling man that had almost more scars than skin, were cheering on the other two warriors at the table. Sitting down was a goliath man that seemed to tower over the table itself despite being leaned forward, his gray-skinned arm locked in contest with the fourth participant. Facing the goliath was a half-orc woman with wild red hair tied up in a pony-tail and light-brown skin, eyes locked with the man. She was gritting her tusked mouth, trying to overpower her opponent in the arm-wrestling contest. Coins were strewn around the improvised arena, and the two fighters seemed evenly matched. Hesitating for several moments, Orlando finally gathered up the courage to walk over and address the four patrons. "Uhm... excuse me?" The goliath snapped with his deep voice at the stranger, his gaze not breaking contact with his opponent. "What?! Can't you see we're busy?!" The tiefling woman sighed, running a hand along one of her curved horns. "You're never going to get another customer if you act like that, Gavek. Besides, I thought that your purse was running low?" She watched with an amused expression, clearly invested in the show of strength. Gavek grumbled, sweat pouring down his bald head, muscles tensing visibly. "That's... why I need to win! Now stop bothering me!" "Oh, because yer doin' such a grand job at that, eh?" The halfling chimed in, taking a sip from his mug. Orlando found himself wondering what he had gotten himself into, but he had to walk out of this tavern with someone. Otherwise... he shook his head, no time to think about it. "I'm willing to pay 20 gold pieces to the one who accompanies me to Mystohr. Half now, half when we arrive." There was a glimmer in the eyes of the half-orc woman, and within a second she had pressed her opponent's arm to the table hard. She grinned, rolling her shoulder. "Victory's mine, Gavek. You really should not have slipped in your concentration." Gavek groaned, massaging his hand and wrist. "Oh, sod off Rami! That was a cheap shot!" Rami smirked, rising from the table and putting the majority of the copper and silver coins on the table into a pouch which she tied securely. "All is fair when it comes to love, war, and coin. You know that." She then turned her attention to the man who had inadvertently given her the moment to seize victory. "You're good for that amount of money?" Orlando blinked before looking around and swallowing, discreetly removing a monogrammed cloth pouch from inside his coat, opening it just a hint to show the gleaming coins inside. "I am. Are you good enough to do the job?" He had no idea why he was being adversarial, this was quite literally his last chance. He couldn't afford to offend his prospective bodyguard. Rami, to the man's surprise, only widened her smirk. "What, you want to test me yourself? I would probably break your arm, fancy-boy." She folded her arms, showing the decent amount of scars that formed an almost irregular pattern on her skin. The tiefling reached over and placed a hand on Rami's shoulder. "Let's not risk sending a potential employer to the medical ward, alright? Besides, you have a tab." She gestured towards the dwarf that were watching them. Rami rolled her eyes and relaxed her shoulders. "You're no fun, Zacria." Fixing her eyes back on Orlando her voice became much calmer and business-like. "Ten gold coins now, ten gold coins when we arrive. I will protect you on the journey, but I expect to be compensated if I am injured. Consider it... an insurance, if I end up being unable to perform my job. Food and drink is on you, and I do not need a tent. Any questions?" Orlando forced himself to not stammer as he responded, even if his knees were shaking. "No, I... I think that sounds reasonable. I... I have my cart ready outside, to leave within the hour. Would that be alright?" Rami smiled at that, patting his shoulder, a bit harder than he expected. "Grand! Let me just get my pack and weapon and then we can be off." She paused, looking him over for a few intense moments. "Hm... maybe." She then walked off towards the counter, conversing with the dwarf. The scarred halfing man walked up to Orlando, looking up and smiling with quite a few missing teeth. "Word of advice, softie? Watch yourself around that one. She can be... a handful." Orlando blinked again, looking down at him. "A... a handful? In what way?" The other man only smiled back. "You may find out. Hope you've got more meat on those bones than it looks." He then sat back at the table, looking to the tiefling. "Oi! Zacria! Rami stole the customer, so we'll duke it out for who gets the next one!" Orlando swallowed, nervously running his fingers along the pouch inside his coat. What had he stumbled into? Before he could have much more of a thought, heavy footsteps alerted him to the return of his new bodyguard. "Name's Rami. Some call me Rami Bloodbreath, but I wouldn't suggest trying it yourself." She reached out a hand. "And you, princeling?" Orlando took the calloused hand and shook it, wincing a little at the strength in her grip. "O-Orlando Rosson. And I'm n-not a princeling, just... a merchant." Rami let go off his hand and shrugged, heading over to the barrel at the entrance to the tavern and reaching into the small stash of weapons that were kept inside. Pulling out a large great-axe, she then secured it with a leather strap on her back before turning back to him. "So are we going?" Orlando gave a few shaky nods as he moved towards the entrance to the Itchy Fiddler, trying his hardest to remain calm. He had the protection he needed, now... now it was just a matter of making it to his destination. He looked over at Rami one more time, acknowledging that she had a good head's height on him. Taking a deep breath he then pushed the door open. "Then let us be off."

The road that stretched for what seemed like miles, was blessedly sparsely populated this day. The warm spring sun shone in the sky, even now as it was drawing towards dusk. The cart rolled along slowly on the well-trodden path, Orlando's horse making steady progress. There was some rattling from the various goods, bottles and boxes moving an inch or two to their sides until they were stopped by softer material. Bags of flour, rolls of cloth, and some blankets to cover it all, made for a decent load of trading material, but far from priceless. The mountains towered in the distance, and as the sun seemed to be cloven in two by a jagged peak, Rami held up a hand. "We're stopping here. Time to make camp." She looked about for a few moments before gesturing with her head to a fairly flat spot of ground that would hopefully not be too uncomfortable. When her ward didn't immediately move she arched an eyebrow, staring back at him with chocolate-brown eyes. "Well? You must be tired after the day." Orlando paused before giving a nod, pulling back on the reins and reaching forward to pat the back of his horse. "You did well today, Brischa. Let's get you some food and then set up camp." He jumped down from the cart, stretching his arms and groaning quietly. When he looked back over at his bodyguard, she had already claimed a spot on the ground and rolled out her blanket to sleep on. "You... you really don't mind being without a tent?" Rami didn't look back at him, focusing on where she would sleep. "A tent may be some protection, but it also wards off sound. Easier to get ambushed that way." Orlando raised a finger before shaking his head and leading his mount to the indicated spot, the cart protesting slightly when it was taken off the road. "Have... have you always been so on edge?" Rami scoffed. "On edge? Listen here, princeling. If you're not on edge these days when you're travelling the roads? You're unlikely to see the dagger coming towards you. Or worse." She did turn back to observe him, her red ponytail swaying behind her. "You really are a greenhorn, huh?" Orlando blushed at the comment, taking out the bag of feed for Brischa before working on his own tent. "I... I guess you could say that. I've only been in this business for two years. And... this is my first journey outside of a caravan." Rami cocked her head, sitting down with crossed legs on the hard ground. "And you decide to bring your first solo-journey towards Mystohr? A place renowned for its port to the west, sure. But also a dangerous place for those not prepared." He sighed. "Yes, I... it's not ideal. I... I made bad judgements, and... I need a good return on these goods. West was the only way that was going to happen." Done with the horse, Orlando then removed the small poles from their bag, working on hammering them into the ground with a mallet. Rami watched him with a curious expression, running a hand along her left ear, touching the two silver rings that decorated it. "And your ears? I thought it was customary for your kind to keep them untouched, as some form of reverence to the gods?" Orlando blushed again, having not noticed his hair falling to the side and revealing the single gold ring that pierced his right ear. "True, but... that's only for worshippers of Immis. My family... we're not part of her devotees. We're... outcasts, I guess is the best term." Rami arched an eyebrow at that, reaching into her pack to pull out a bottle of ale that she poured into a cup. "Outcasts? I thought you humans stuck together?" "Usually, yes. But..." He sighed deeply. "You forget that my kind can be very... xenophobic." Rami chuckled bitterly. "Oh no, it's not like I've been barred from even entering some cities when I've escorted people. Heavens forbid one of my kind trample all over their marble streets. They might think I'll spread the disease of tusks to their children." Orlando stiffened but kept working, his voice quieter. "Yes. Your kind... they are shunned where I come from. It... it hasn't made things easy. Given my heritage." "Oh? Let me guess, you're some form of high noble that was born with more money than sense, and somehow your family is disgraced because of some ridiculous offence towards the gods?" She took a sip and leaned forward, one hand on her knee. Orlando paused, mallet mid-swing. "I..." He went quiet, trying to formulate a response. "We... my family is..." He finally looked over at her. "My grandfather, he is considered a disgrace not only to my home country, but to our very race. All because he... he fell in love with an orc." Rami sputtered out ale at that comment, eyes slightly wide. "He did what?" "Exactly as it sounds. He... he was a warrior, and he got gravely injured in his youth. He was discovered and taken care of by a orc shaman. She nursed him back to health, and... over time, he fell in love with her. Laid with her." He blushed, thinking back to his aged grandfather sitting in his favourite chair, a deep sadness behind his eyes. "But... he felt he had a duty. Despite hating himself for it, he left her and returned back to the kingdom. But when they found out he had... you know, he was shunned. Considered a heretic, an abomination." He looked up towards the sky that was slowly turning a deep orange. "He could never forgive himself, and even if he eventually married and had a son... he always regretted not staying with that shaman." Rami had listened intently, surprised at her own focus. Taking a slow sip from the mug she then reached it over towards him. "Here. Talking that much wears out the throat." Orlando looked back at her and after a few moments he took the mug, drinking down a big gulp before handing it back over. Wiping his mouth with a sleeve he managed a weak smile. "Thank you. It... it's not a story I have shared often. And even this far from the kingdom... my family's name does not hold much good. But, I couldn't stay at home, I would never be able to be successful that way. So... a merchant's life was the only one available to me. No permanent home, and just making ends meet by trading." Rami drank down the last of the ale, setting down the mug on the hard ground. "Well, least I know you're not like the others. Otherwise I doubt you would have even considered hiring me." Orlando gave her a surprised look before getting back to working on the tent. "Why wouldn't I? You seemed eager, and the reputation of every sword-arm in that tavern is a good one. Besides, you're quite easy on the eyes." He blushed brightly when he realized what he had said, and focused back on the metal pole. Rami smirked at the comment, flexing her arms. "And you've got good taste. That makes you one of the top ten of humans I've met already." She watched him, observing with a keen eye. "You're not so bad yourself. A bit thin perhaps, but inexperience doesn't mean lack of talent." Orlando went red as a tomato, nearly hitting his thumb with the mallet before standing up. "I-I should get to working on dinner." He walked back towards the cart to fetch the simple cookery kit. A husky voice spoke quietly behind him. "And that ass isn't bad..."

The journey towards Mystohr progressed much the same, even if the topic of Orlando's grandfather or family was not brought up again. He also found himself blushing whenever he looked at his bodyguard for a moment too long and she turned her head. It was a struggle to keep his mind focused, but he had no other choice. His career hinged on getting to the town in reasonable time, and in safe conditions. Rami smirked and turned her head to the merchant, cocking her head. "Like what you see?" She flexed her left arm, amused by how green the man truly was. Orlando blushed, shaking his head before stopping. "I-I... I didn't shake my head to indicate I don't, I..." He stopped, cheeks flushing pink. He adjusted himself slightly on the driver's seat, hoping she wouldn't notice. Rami in turn cackled, turning her attention back to the road ahead. "Oh, you're too much fun. No-one ever tease you like this before?" The day was once again coming to an end, the sun setting behind more distant peaks than earlier evenings. "I-I'm just a bit o-out of my element. I'm fine." He slapped his cheek in an attempt to rein himself in. "Will we make camp soon?" He desperately needed to stop, if only to focus on something that was not her. "Sure, just..." Rami paused, holding up a hand. "Stay alert. I heard something." She scanned the vicinity, consisting mostly of red dirt and some larger stone formations. Clicking her tongue, she unsheathed her weapon, holding it over her shoulder. "Well, shit." A voice came out from behind one of the formations, speaking in a rather rural accent. "Ya just stay where ya are, both of ya. This can be resolved without any violence." Orlando froze, his blush instantly fading away and leaving his face pale. "A-are we getting r-robbed?" He held onto the reins tightly with one hand, the other going to the dagger in his boot. "Tut-tut-tut, hands where we can see em, fancy-pants. Look, ya just walk away from the cart, and we'll leave ya with yer lives. A simple transaction-like. Ya savvy?" Rami gripped onto her weapon in response, digging her nails into the wood. "You're biting off more than you can chew. Why don't you walk away, and your sorry lives won't end today." A second voice rang out behind them. "Oh, that's just downright rude, miss. We're just tryin' to ply our trade, ya see. Everyone's gotta bring in the dough somehow, aye?" By now the cart was surrounded, four men watching them intently. They had masks covering the lower half of their faces, and each wielded grim-looking scimitars. The camouflaged cloaks dragged along the dirt as they slowly approached. The one that appeared to be the leader, mostly due to his size advantage compared to the others, spoke up again. "Look, ya are outnumbered, and my patience runs pretty thin, aye? So why don't ya be a good little citizen and walk away without gettin' run through. Ya savvy?" Orlando swallowed hard, looking back at his cart that held the key to his future. If he lost it... he would be destitute, and without any way forward. Much as it pained him, he slowly raised his hands in surrender. "I-I su-su----" "Fuck that!" Rami cut him off, getting into a battle stance. "You made your last mistakes today, brigands." She gritted her teeth, and in response to her hostile demeanour, one of the man jumped forward, slashing wide with his weapon. Rami was an experienced fighter, and she had assumed that a wide slash was coming, so in turn she ducked down, shocking the bandit. Grinning, she then delivered a hard kick with her boot to his groin, eliciting a whimper. "You men are so weak, one kick to your crown je---" Before she could finish, the second bandit had sprinted to her side in an attempt to blind-side her. Hoping to catch her off-guard, he then went down into a sliding position to kick her and render her prone. Thinking fast however, Rami dropped her weapon and went from a squat into a bridge, diverting her balance and causing the bandit's leg to slide through the opening that had been created. Before he could swing at her, she then dropped down, landing hard on the leg. Now thoroughly annoyed, Rami reached out and grabbed the man's collar and gave him a solid head-butt that even caused her some pain.r"

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