Up on the roof the giant roe pulled the cork out of a bottle of black rum while scanning the Lavender beds for anyone stupid enough to still be moving at this time of night.
"Have to trust me on this one Hammer."
He listened to echos of a conversation he'd just had.
"Not my business to tell other people's secrets."
Two weddings had put him in a foul mood. Â Three days facedown in the Shroud had given him a powerful thrist. Â
Watching someone be genuinely happy with something?Â
Well.
The rum bottle was going to ease all of those burdens.Â
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They'd slipped out of the inn during the party. Â It hadn't been hard. Â They'd been there for almost a week settling travel arrangements with the caravans. Â There were plenty rolling through the trading outpost but the question of which one to take to which end of the earth had consumed a lot of the time. Â They weren't going back, and the money from the Fighting Season wasn't going to last through a second intercontinental trip. Â The prospect of a one way ticket dictating their prospects for the coming years was one worth taking the time to talk about.
"I heard he fucked a bear"
Now they were rolling away.
In the back end of a cart four mountain Hellsguard descended from a season of war in the mountains. Â The money had been alright. Â The experience had been eye opening. Â The children of the Spine had grown and were leaving home behind for the last time. Â Behind them on the horizon a town with an inn we already know was rolling away into obscurity. Â
None of them would be coming back too that inn, or to their home.
"He was drunk enough to dance. Â Fucking a bear isn't out of the question."
The party had been huge. Â A horde of mercs freshly released had money to burn. Â When you had a group declare it was someone's birthday that money had an excuse to explode. Â They'd be picking up after the riot of a celebration for days.
"You're just jealous you didn't get laid, precious little Henk."
But some things hadn't changed over the Fighting seasons. Â Shit talking was always prime for harvest.
"Fuck you Minny."
The group was still loud. Â Still only knew how to show love by how hard they shoved each other.
"Right. Â We forgot. Â You married the axe."
In a way that was the truest kind of love. Â The kind that shone in even the worst behavior.
"And fuck you too Litha."
Under a fur the giant winced and rubbed his head at the ongoing mix of shouting and glowering silence. Â Hammer opted to avoid the ongoing, never-ending axis of insults that was any converstion involving Henkersbeil and rolled to the back of the cart. Â He peered out at the vanishing inn.
Maybe his raging hangover was making him see things. Â Maybe he just wanted to think there was someone up on the roof watching the cart roll away.
Unlikely.
He hadn't told her when they were leaving. Â Her oath circle hadn't decided where they were headed and his own's choice had been hard locked with coin before the party had even began.
Things whispered at the dawn, up on that roof.
"So who was she Hammer?" Â Minn had a sixth sense for where to put an emotional wedge into a wound. Â The other two had a talent for following the blood that seeped out of that sort of wound.
"Was it a bear? You look like you got in a fight with one. Â Claw marks. Â Everywhere." Â Henk's laugh was as much accusatory as it was hopeful.
"Wasn't a bear. Â Saw him duck out of the party. Â You two too drunk to notice." Â Lihta motioned a finger between the weather witch, who was scribbling in her book, and Henk, who was running a polishing stone over the edge of his namesake axe. Â Then to Hammer. Â "Worth remembering at least?"
Hammer nodded and started packing his pipe. Â Not a word yet. Â Just the glow of fire and the slow curl of smoke that followed it.
"Well. Â Maybe you'll see her again. Â Assuming she doesn't end up on the other side of the landmass. Â Or dead." Â Minn enjoyed sticking her finger in a wound and twisting it around.
"And assuming he doesn't end up dead either. Â Don't forget that. Â Destroyer's city has a lot of lethality for us to cash in on, but we gotta survive it to enjoy the cash." Â Henk, conversely, liked lurking under fresh cuts and waiting for the worst to drip into his open mouth of regret.
"Easy way to tell." Lihta, though, the gaunt, wire muscled ghoul, liked to be sharp, and direct, pulling the heart out and then waiting, politely, for you to eat it. "Did you or didn't you get their name?"
Hammer nodded, raising his pipe to the Inn as it sunk away out of sight.
"Aye."
A farewell to someone else sitting on the roof watching the cart roll away.
"I did."