Astraea spotted him right away - a boy pickpocketing his way through the market with all the subtlety of an angry owlbear. It's a miracle the kid hadn't been caught already, and his luck was sure to run out quick if he didn't refine his technique.
Astraea remembered what it was like when she was that age, before a kind shopkeeper took pity on her and offered up a room and a job, back when it was just her and Natasha against the world. Astraea wouldn't be alive if Natasha hadn't taken her under her wing and taught her how to survive. This kid couldn't have grown up stealing to live, the way that she did, or he would be much better at it by now. But he was definitely doomed for an unhappy fate if he didn't get the same kind of guidance that had kept her alive all those years ago.
Astraea contemplated approaching him. She wasn't in a position to be taking on the responsibility of teaching him herself, but she could put him in touch with a member of the local thieves guild who'd be willing to offer instruction...
Suddenly, as she watched, a tiny creature scampered up to sit on the boy's shoulder and dangle a locket in front of his face. And things only got more chaotic from there. In under an hour, the boy and the creature managed to cause a spectacular scene, disrupting the entire market and starting rumors of cursed bread that would certainly persist for generations.
Astraea counted herself lucky that she had not wound up getting involved. And even luckier that the scene they caused was so spectacular; she was able to make off with a large handful of valuable gems from a nearby booth completely undetected. All in all, this was a very good day.
When last I wrote, I was being celebrated as a hero of Mirrodel, an honor beyond my wildest dreams. Today, we are celebrating once again, although much more somberly. One of my own was kidnapped in Etrusia, and today they have been recovered and their freedom restored. Though I will forever grapple with the suffering that they endured in the time that they were gone, it is a great relief to have them safely back with us again.
Although this latest adventure is not yet fully concluded, the absence and recovery of one friend has heightened how much I miss another. I think it is time that I make good on my threat and come find you, wherever you may be. We have been parted for too long, and I am craving the reassurance of your company. For the sake of your sanity, I will not ambush you with my entire crew of new companions, but I may bring one along; I’d like for you to meet my family.
I’ll be in touch as my visit draws nearer, but rest assured that you will be seeing me soon.
If you ask Astraea, it’s the rest of the world that behaves strangely. Why would people expect her to welcome physical intimacy? Why would anyone welcome that? What beauty do bodies supposedly hold that people expect her to show interest in? Astraea has seen many beautiful things in her life, things that sparkle and shine, or glint in an array of colors, or refract light into scattered rainbows, but people do not do any of those things. A person may adorn themselves with beautiful things, but the body that lies beneath is just a lumpy collection of skin, fat, muscles, and bones. What about that is meant to be attractive?
Throughout her life, Astraea has seen people falling over themselves for each other – pairing off, and splitting up, and pairing off again – and she is happy to not be afflicted by attraction. Attraction, as far as she can tell, is nonsensical. It follows no set rules and is completely unbound by logic. It renders people ridiculous and drives even the most levelheaded of individuals to absolutely foolish behavior.
Not to mention the cost. Wooing a lover is quite an expensive affair, and the cost only increases for those who choose to engage sex workers instead. Astraea is no longer welcome in the red light district of Mirrodel, due to her habit of talking would-be-customers out of spending their hard earned wages on companionship that surely couldn’t be worth so much gold since it can be found quite easily at a local tavern for free (besides which, such companionship is utterly unappealing, though she has not yet met anyone who could be convinced of that point).
Although Astraea’s solitary lifestyle is not, as some assume, the root cause of her disinterest in romance, the two do go together quite nicely. Astraea is not distracted by pretty faces or sweet words; she never has to question whether her judgment is being clouded by attraction. She holds her trust in reserve and has never had to risk her heart or her safety for the sake of a potential partner.
All of this suits her quite well. Astraea has never felt deficiency from her lack of romantic partner; she already has everything she needs. She has a strong bond of trust, companionship, and support with Natasha, who taught her everything she knows about survival on the streets. She has camaraderie and competition with the Mirrodel Guard, who watch her back but also keep her on her toes. She has a sense of safety and security with Gerrat, who took a chance on her one cold winter night and has been reliably helpful ever since. And at the end of the night, she has a bed all to herself, which is exactly the way she like it.
It is common knowledge among the people who know her in Mirrodel that there is something off about Astraea. Something in the way she carries herself, in the way she avoids affectionate touches, in the way she shows more interest in the beauty of shiny things than in the beauty of people. She cannot be charmed by even the most charismatic figures, and those who persist in trying are likely to get stabbed. The people of Mirrodel can’t account for this behavior, but they’ve witnessed it often enough to have picked up on the pattern.
Some believe it is an extension of her distrustful and guarded nature. Some believe she just has very particular tastes and has not yet met anyone who meets her standards. And others have correctly concluded that Astraea simply has no interest in what another body might have to offer. But regardless of the reason for her behavior, the people who know Astraea have taken to warning off anyone who might consider making advances.
After the sixth time the bartender at the local tavern watched Astraea glare daggers through an unfortunate stranger who decided to chat her up while she was eating her dinner, Astraea is offered a seat at the bar for all future meals so the bartender can intercept anyone who tries to approach her. This works out well for all involved, as Astraea’s death-glares and sharp tongue had been bad for business, sometimes sending people storming out of the tavern without paying their bill, whereas now any would-be-suitors can be talked into buying food and drinks and taking a seat at a table instead of engaging with the acerbic elf.
Over the years, Sergeant Dankil has developed a speech for new officers who look at the girl in green with interest. It varies in subtlety and length depending on his mood, their apparent level of interest, and whether or not Astraea is in earshot, and it largely revolves around the danger to one’s career in law enforcement if one becomes romantically involved with a known criminal. The officers who receive this speech leave with a firm understanding that the orders “do not pursue the girl in green” apply in every sense of that phrase and are not to be trifled with.
Gerrat, who had offered Astraea the steady work and shelter that put an end to her time living on the streets, now finds himself offering her a different sort of support, interceding when customers get a little too friendly. Astraea values this job and the help Gerrat has provided her far too much to intentionally frighten the people who approach her here, but he has more than once heard her answer the question, “So when do you get off?” with a curt, “Never.” And he can see from the tightness of her expression that were she not at work she would not be nearly so polite. So he steps in when he can, distracting the customer and sending Astraea off to complete a task elsewhere. He isn’t always around, but Gerrat does what he can to make sure Astraea is comfortable in his shop.
By the time she reaches the age of 50, Astraea’s disinterest in sex or romance is so well established in the public consciousness that it is only travelers or the extremely out-of-touch and foolish who attempt to approach her anymore. And there is no sympathy whatsoever for those fools who refuse to heed any of the warning signals. (The one man who tried to bring charges against Astraea for threatening to stab him if he didn’t back off was almost laughed out of the station, until the guards realized that he was a noble and therefore they were required to take him seriously.)
Although Astraea’s disinterest may be a bit unusual, it is hardly the strangest thing about her, just one more quirk for the people of Mirrodel to acknowledge. And, on balance, this is far easier to accept and accommodate than the stealing.
For anyone seeing this post and wondering what kind of unholy heresy is currently having a blacksmithing orgy in front of their eyes, this is called a Lantern Shield.
This came from, YOU GUESSED IT, fucking Italy, home of lunatic steel-weaving mother fuckers who often simply looked at each other, and by each other, I mean their frenzied reflections in their shattered mirrors, and said “WHAT IF WE JUST DO THINGS”, which is, as we all know, Aunt Jemima’s recipe for success.
Lantern Shields were very indicative: They were meant to be bucklers that could carry a lantern, oftentimes for night time duels. Now, you’re wondering, why carry a lantern on a night duel when it could just prove detrimental to your overall movement? Why, to blind the mother fucker, of course! But, see, and this is the funny thing about Italy, when Italian blacksmiths realized that they could just add a hook to a buckler, they noticed they could also just add whatever the thrice condemned shit they wanted to them, so they started forging stakes, spikes, and blades that protruded out of the buckler and gauntlet as additional defense against anyone who, due to the poor visibility of mist shrouded, dark blanketed nights, would just walk right into your handheld barracks.
I mean, nothing better than a bloke closing the distance to you losing an eye or six because they didn’t consider you might just carry a porcupine on your arm, right?
Some specimens exists, but these are not numerous. If you know of or possess an actual, physical Lantern Shield, congratulations, you probably have an item that likely killed.
Given the fact that yeah, you’d need to be completely demented and more than a bit overdramatic to come up with something like this, I’m 100% unsurprised this shield also appears in medieval Russia.
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