Legacy

[Philomel]

Returning to Radasanth was like returning to an old lover who is always pleased to meet you.


The Gilded Lily, and Philomel's legacy had begun there, after all. From the ashes of the Couching Tiger to the high West Tower of the Sleeping Wyrd the city had been hers, at least in part, for a long time. Ever since the slow dissolution of the Ixian Knights, who had once been Philomel's greatest enemy and were now fading into myth, the city had been reborn in terms of power. Oh yes there had been the political coo, sending various men pitted against each other in heated debates, and the barons of Corone had been at each others' throats for a very long time. However, the underworld still thrived, the brothels and the pubs were still run, and through them the Matriarch of the Gilded Lily had her power, all under the guise of a union.


For on the surface that was what the Gilded Lily was, that was what it had always been. A union of various brothels who happened to all have gotten rid of their corrupts pimps and placed women back in charge. Who cared if they happened to also gather secrets, run assassinations if asked, and do all sorts of other favours if the morals were right and money crossed a palm? All as long as the corrupt governments were being worked against, and the impoverished were being raised from the gutter.


Everyone who was anyone recognised the lowing bovine beast as it lumbered through the streets. Up in the colds of Salvar, where the tera'k was more at home, the beast was less recognised, for a few people rode them up there and 'Philomel van der Aart' was nothing more than a cold memory of a once lone assassin. Down here, however, in the hometown where she had begun, people heard her being talked about with rumours. As her beast passed, with faun on its back and a rusty red fox in tow, whores peered out of windows and gang members ground their axe edges. Followers and enemies lay in wait, some having risked battle in the past, much to their disappointment. And death. Others simply smiled and got on with their work, knowing who exactly walked in their path, and others still only seeing a cow with a goat-bitch riding it.


It's quiet today, Veridian yawned as he pattered beside the tera'k. Claws retracted he was a silent ghost beside the lumbering hooves of the animal.


"It is a little," Philomel nodded, her voice quiet. "But then this is not a market day."


What day is it? he asked her, in her mind as usual.


The faun shrugged a little, her hands wound into the fur at the base of the tera'k's neck. The reigns, too, where in her fists, but still she gripped onto the hair like it was another lifeline to hold her sanity in check.


I think it is Saturday, she replied, now in the same method of communication. And early morning too.


No, its early, is it? drawled the fox-form earth-spirit sarcastically. He had been growing snarkier throughout their two days of travel. I didn't notice because of the lack of light when you cruelly woke me. Early.


Philomel sighed. Last night they had camped at the edge of Concordia forest, about a mile from the Radasanth wall. It was safe there, and though Philomel had a million safe places to stay within Radasanth itself she had wanted one last moment alone, to gather her thoughts. To tell herself this was the right idea. And then, she had hardly slept the entire night, grown agitated, and so told Veridian that they were going then and there. Without breakfast. Veridian had gotten so annoyed that he decided to walk.


Which had added more time to their journey, for he had much smaller paws than the giant bovine creature. And that more time meant more mulling by Philomel.


Are you sure-


Yes, I am sure this is the right decision! Veridian said, not for the first time. Yes, you are making the right choice, and yes, I support you. Honestly, Philomel, it is as if you have asked me this a thousand times already.


You are uncommonly sarcastic and moody today, she frowned.


Well someone woke me up early and still has not apologised.


That almost made Philomel forget her worries and burst into laughter. Almost. As they turned the corner a large wooden, painted sign came into view, right outside a gateway. The Sleeping Wyrd it said, Public House and Services. With the sight of it, the beginnings of any smile faded from Philomel's face and mind and she pulled the tera'k to a gentle stop, eyes focused on the sign.


"Sorry," she murmured, as Veridian came to a stop by the gateway also.


He huffed, and accepted it, even though he knew the truth.


He knew the apology was not just for him.