Selm
The Southern Route to Groville
Beloved Neyma, we thank you for the life you give to the wilds, O' Goddess of Life Given Form. We thank you for the bounty you spread before us, in all lands and all seas in which you maintain. O' Matron of Flora and Fauna, we thank you for your children above and below, for they too belong in the cycle of life. But if you were so kind, could you please disperse this storm already?
The storm did not disperse, but Selm was only mildly offended. She had already prayed to the Tempest Father, but no such luck was found there. None of the prayers she had uttered had cleared the skies nor had any of them given her any warmth from the cool rain that still poured onto the Keldanian hillsides.
As of now, most of the guards were sitting underneath an old oak tree. Runner had found a spot higher up in the tree where the trunk had curved just enough to provide a bit of shelter from the wind and rain. Likely, she wasn't any drier than the rest of them. Baz was whittling something out of a gnarled branch, not bothered by the weather. The man didn't seem to be bothered by much, but Selm had only known him for a few days anyhow. Inathia was shivering like a leaf, the poor girl. It seems that she did not do well with the cold. As far as Selm knew, not many of the draconic races did either. She certainly did not see Savaad out and about in this weather.
That left Velemure. She burned with envy at the thought of the mage. He was all cozied up in his waterproof tent, likely with a good book to boot. Velemure frustrated her to no end with the smugness on his face when he had set it up shortly before the rain. To her, a creature used to considerable comfort, this was a level of petty mockery that was unacceptable.
And yet, she accepted it. Because she hadn't earned those comforts back yet. She could be dry and comfortable when she made amends with the world. Of course, that would also be when she could afford to be comfortable.
Curses, she hated this blasted self-pity she was wallowing in.
"So… just so you folk know… we're guarding something weird." The Miyetan accent lilted over the sound of the pouring rain and rumbling thunder. Selm turned to the source, a look of confusion evident on her face.
"What? Whatever do you mean by that?" She called up.
Runner poked her head out to speak down towards the group. "I mean that we are guarding something weird."
Selm narrowed her eyes at the woman. "And just how would you know this?"
"Peeked."
"You peeked!?"
"Ya-"
"You can't just do that!?" Selm shouted up, her face flushed with bristling anger.
"Can and did. Yule told me to."
Selm looked around in exasperation. "That goes against our contract! Our employer explicitly told us-"
"Never signed nothin in ink."
"That doesn't matter! It is about trust!"
She looked at both Inathia and Baz for reassurance. Only, Baz was still whittling, apparently not caring at all about his companion's disregard for breaking the terms of their verbal contract. Inathia had curled in on herself, not only shivering but also now looking a bit spooked from Selm's aggravated shouting. After a moment of no confirmation, she just went back to addressing Runner, albeit a bit quieter. "And by the Nine True, who is Yule?"
"Guy in his cozy little tent," Runner responded, seeming done with this conversation already after the backlash from Selm.
So that was his name. Yule Velemure… it sounded vaguely familiar. Regardless, it did not give Runner the right to go through their employer's cargo. Especially because they were told not to. Selm just huffed. She had already felt… off around Runner, but this just widened the proverbial rift. She was not even aware if the other party noticed the apparent dislike, but Selm was going to make sure she was aware of it in the coming days.
It was Baz who broke the silence that had taken hold of the group once again."What did ye find?"
"A chest. It was glowy and dangerous. Eshah, it's probably trapped."
That was… well even Selm had to admit that that was interesting. Magical chests were not terribly common. They often were expensive enough to only be reserved for large sums of coin or jewels. Or valuable or dangerous merchandise. Still, it did not warrant peeking.
"And? What did the mage think?" The half-orc had stopped whittling, having to wipe a bit of water from his eyes. He gave the woman in the tree a look while he was at it. Selm studied him at the same moment. That look wasn't just curiosity, he was reading her just as Selm was reading him.
Runner just shrugged from up in her perch. "Dunno. Seems to have some inkling. You know how mages get, all wrapped up in their head and stuff? Completely forget everyone else may not be at the same thought as them."
Baz nodded, turning back to his whittling. Seems like he learned all that he cared for from the human. Selm, however, was not convinced. And, being one of the arcane talents herself, a bit offended. She cleared her throat and rejoined the conversation.
"If you don't mind… please elaborate for me exactly what you know of the cargo," Selm stated, letting the words drip with magic. Some compared it to slathering honey on top of sweets, the way her voice commanded action. A few sweet words were quite compelling to the right ears.
Runner did not appreciate it. Selm felt her resist the charming effects of her voice. She was forced to back up as the human jumped from her perch in the tree and landed where she was but a moment ago, a dagger drawn threateningly. The mud splattered all over them both from the impact. Neither of them cared, their tempers had already begun rising.
"Don't you ever do that to me!" She hissed, the words stabbing through the rain towards Selm. She waved the dagger in the dwarf's direction, not close enough to stab her, but getting closer. "I thought you didn't care about the cargo, little miss goody goody Keldanian? "
"I don't!"
"Eshah, you obviously care enough to try to bewitch me!"
"Because you obviously aren't revealing all that you know on the matter!"
"I was being nice by telling you all I knew!"
"And I do not believe that you told us everything you know!"
"I already told you-" Runner had been advancing on Selm, who was backing up slowly, but her advance was halted by Baz's hands coming between them. Runner looked up at the half-orc, staring daggers at him. "Move. She tried to do something to my mind."
"Leave it. Both of ye." He spoke. The quiet gruffness was significantly more threatening when it was laced with messages of warning. He looked at Selm first. "Very rude. Next time, ye may not be lucky. She told us all of it." He then looked at Runner. "Don't be so hasty. Ye were wronged, but don't make it a habit jumpin' at people."
With that, the half-orc lowered his arms. Both women were huffing with indignation at each other and at the third party who interfered. Selm looked Runner in the eye. Her entire upbringing was filled with teachings of respect and manners and here was a person who practically radiated the exact opposite of all those teachings. She could feel Runner thinking something along similar lines.
If Runner didn't know about Selm's distaste for her before, it was apparent now.
~~~
The storm finally called it quits sometime during the night. More than one group spent time getting their campfire up to a roaring heat just to get their clothes and possessions dry. Selm helped Inathia do the same. The shivering dragonborn ripped large branches down from the nearby trees whilst Selm spent her time trying to coerce a bit of flame into the wet wood through the gentle hum of magic. Before long, both were warming themselves up by their work.
Selm continued to stew on the confrontation from earlier the whole time they had worked. She barely knew these people, they barely knew her. So why did the whole experience bother her so much?
"Heads up people, we are moving out in half an hour!" With groans and grumbles, the caravan was going to try and stay on some semblance of a schedule. Selm, only now just dry, was not pleased with having to trek through more mud, Packing what little she had back up, it was back on the road once more.
It was surprising when Yule(although she would respectfully still call him Mister Velemure) approached her while they walked. "While versed in the arcane arts, I am no seer. What happened?"
"Why are you asking me?" She replied. Selm at least tried to hold back any residual venom left in her voice. The mage had at least been cordial during the entire time she had known him.
"It was either from you or Miss Inathia. I doubt the girl is willing to speak more than a handful of words and I would appreciate a bit more elaboration."
"We had a disagreement." She wasn't much more useful than the seldom-spoken dragonborn.
"You and Miss Runner?"
She blinked in surprise at this. "How did you-?"
He waved his hand. "Both of you exude a form of independence that clashes with the other. She seems to have her idea of how things should work, as do you. They are different." He looked down at her with a wry smile. "I am more surprised that what quiet we had lasted as long as it has."
It was then Selm shook herself out of the confusion and leftover irritation, directing the feelings into a wave of new anger. "Whatever nonsense you are spewing aside, you were the one who told her to-"
He interrupted her by tapping his staff against her side lightly. The staff itself was a gnarled thing made of plum-colored wood. She glared at him, reading his intention.
Quieter than before and through grit teeth, she repeated "You were the one who told her to break into our employer's belongings."
"I was."
"And you don't feel any remorse about that, do you?"
"I don't."
"Why?"
"Because, Miss Selm, I saw an opportunity and I took it. Whatever Mister Jonesy is lugging around is suspicious. I would rather it be some random lowlife to report back on whatever obvious mystery than you or I. You must agree with this, no?"
"I…" Well, it did take the risk off of them, that was convenient. But that was not the point! "No! It is the principle of disobeying the rules!"
"Is it? That sounds like Keldani brainwashing talking. Face it Miss Selm, you are not in the heart of Keldanis anymore. You are not among the people who care about codes of honor, nor are you among people who are such a stickler for the rules of society." The half-elf had leaned into her while making his point, the fiery colors of his eyes nearly hidden as they had narrowed on every word.
Her face paled, breath picking up in pace. He knew? If he knew, how many others did too? Was it that obvious? Of course, it was that obvious. It had barely been a month and she was barely any different since back then.
Thankfully, he relented in his lecture. "Regardless of who you were or where you are going, you must learn to adapt. Runner is adapting by not pushing away other lines of curiosity and investigating potential threats to her safety. I advise you to do the same."
With that, the mage returned to his side of the cart, leaving Selm's head spinning. Her stomach found that familiar feeling of nausea. Her emotional core felt like a pit of rising muck, threatening to overflow. Selm would have to get over it. Adapt, as Yule told her to. Gone were the days of rich nobility and ignorance. But she could not just give up on her pride like that, right? What about honoring those who came before her? What about her ancestors and their sacrifices? Responsibility to them and all of that?
By the gods above and below, the list of things she was inept at continued to grow. How was she supposed to just forget the basis on which her country was founded? That was impossible. Was she supposed to look the other way when it was convenient for her? That would make her just like her family. Like those who accepted their coin to overlook what they did. She promised to change, to not be like them. Adapting to the world outside of that pretty bubble bought with dirty money would likely cause her to toe that line, for her own life if for nothing else.
It would take her years to try and break down the walls that she had built her ideologies out of. She would have to expedite that process, and soon. If not… she may just end up on the wrong end of Runner's blade.
Selm was not optimistic about that outcome.