Rianaire could not have ever expected such a sound to come out of a woman who had slain centaurs. An alarmed chirp and a face flushed red with surprise. She could not help but laugh at the sight of it.
“My, you’re an innocent one.” She put a hand on Socair’s arm. “I do apologize. You’ve been sitting so very stiff and I worried you would have the wrong impression. Though, I would still have you in my bed.” She leaned close to Socair, breathing in the air around her and sighed it out playfully. “Oh, but your honor would never allow it I’m sure. Honor to Deifir, of course. And to that girl there.” Rianaire looked across at the freckled elf. “I do not know her name, I fear. She has not felled as many monsters as you. Who is she?”
“Práta is her name. She is the Regent-in-Fact of Glassruth and my traveling companion. I would—”
“Such an important guest and you’ve left her there?” Rianaire turned to Inney. “Inney, please, go and fetch Práta of Glassruth for us. I have many questions.”
Socair’s eyes had not left the fight for more than a moment since she had come into the room. Again her attention had turned away from Rianaire and to the fight.
“Ah yes, my question for you before I became so distracted. Which of the men will win the fight?”
There was not a moment’s hesitation in the answer. “The smaller has seen more fights, I would say. And the larger lacks for stamina. However…”
She trailed off, likely as she was coming to the best part. “However?”
Socair pulled in a breath. She seemed nervous to speak. “It is no true fight. Neither means to kill the other. Gold can only motivate one so far.”
A boring answer, Rianaire thought. “You think of them too simply.” She took a large swig from her mug. “It makes sense. You are a soldier… or were, I should say. For how long? What brought you to the life of a warrior?”
“My father, he… he trained us all from the time we were children.”
“And so there it lies. You have fought to survive because you have only ever fought for the reasons that have been handed down. There are many other things that can bring a body to arms against another. Coin, pride, jealousy. It is true that survival is enough in the moment, but the will to survive does not walk one toward the sharp end of a sword.”
Socair went quiet. The serious frown seemed to be fixed on her face but it was the lack of confidence that Rianaire found to be the most curious.
Rianaire sighed and placed a hand on Socair’s thigh. She jumped at the touch. “You mustn’t be so dour if you hope to survive a world full of people who have much more experience at it. I expect you do not show such a face to that beautiful woman.” Rianaire nodded to Práta who had finally come around.
Socair looked over to see her and immediately turned back. “Treorai, I…”
“I will insist that you call me Rianaire.” She looked past Socair to Práta. “And you are Práta of Glassruth! Such a joy to have you both among us—”
“Rianaire, I fear I have come on some business.”
“Of course you have. Oh! Is it about the roads? Unbearable, aren’t they? Do not worry, I intend to see to them as soon as I have concluded my affairs in the province.”
“There… I have been sent on a more pressing matter. The hippocamps have—”
“Práta.” She could not help herself but interrupt. For all Socair’s nervous stiffness, the elf beside her seemed entirely at home. “You are the Regent-in-Fact of Glassruth? Then the former Regent…”
“My father, yes.”
“And how did you meet Socair? After the battle? Oh, during? Terribly romantic. It’s a wonder you’re not mentioned in any of the songs.”
“No, I was… I was ordered to spy on her.”
The fight had ended it seemed. That it was even still afoot had slipped Rianaire’s mind entirely with newfound fun sitting just next to her. She stood.
“Well-fought and a glorious bit of fun indeed. Now, while I do very much thank all of you for making me so welcome, I should ask that you might give me some time with my very important guests.”
The patrons grumbled but did as they were asked and reasonably quickly to Rianaire’s surprise. When they had all gone she had a table brought as well as meat pies and drink for everyone.
“Do pardon the interruption but I believe I heard a wonderful story on the verge of being told.”
Socair sat quietly as Práta recounted the events of their meeting. Crosta’s betrayals and Socair’s kindness, her unwillingness to let harm come to others. Her loss. There was a surprising frankness in the telling that Rianaire had not expected. It was clear why Práta was ever at the side of the Goddess. A voice to show the sides of Socair she seemed to believe nobles had no interest in seeing.
“Very good! I’ve decided!” Rianaire clapped her mug against the table. “I should like a story! One from your own mouth, Socair of Abhainnbaile. And in turn I shall tell you one of my own. I wish to know you, and for you to know me.”
“I would not know what to tell.” Socair said, looking to Práta. A soft smile seemed to calm her and she looked back to Rianaire. “But if it must be done.” She thought a minute and then drew a breath. “It was Breithe and I was just barely grown. I was to join the fight against the hordes the following year and so I wanted to know peace so much as I could before then. I went to the forests north of the Bastion City to hunt and sleep among the quiet. The days passed effortlessly and I found myself thinking that I might never like to see the walls of a city again. I was moving my camp to find a
