“Does the name Zularti Vensar mean anything to you, m’lady?”
Faye’s hands immediately went limp, dumbfounded. She forgot about the teacup she had been holding, fumbling and catching it before it completely upturned, but not without sloshing several drops of its contents onto her gloves and the pink tablecloth to stain the fabric. Had she misheard him?
“I thought it sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it…” the Lalafell across the table continued thoughtfully, stroking his snowy white beard. Lord Raisan Arcmantle had been a friend and colleague for nearly a decade, and few could be as steadfast or capable, but perhaps his age was beginning to catch up to him.
“Excuse me–I’m sorry, what?” the Midlander sputtered, unable to get any other words out. She took a moment to collect herself, quietly clearing her throat. “Why… why do you ask?”
“We had a visitor here at the teahouse by that name a few days ago, and I showed him around. He said he was a member of the Harbingers of Dawn from the old days. I didn’t recognize him, but it’s been a long time, and my memory isn’t what it used to be… But he had his free company badge, and I know it as one I made by my own hand,” Raisan explained, and Faye did her best to keep up her calm veneer even as her head spun, finding little succeed in the endeavor..
“Zularti? That’s not… That’s not possible… He’s…” Her words trailed off, unable to bring herself to finish the thought, and she shook her head slowly. He couldn’t possibly be alive, could he? After all this time, all her searching, could he just show up out of the blue? It was the conclusion her heart leapt to, what she wished to be true more than anything else, but she couldn’t allow herself to entertain the idea and set herself up for such grave disappointment. So what was this, then? A cruel joke or veiled threat from someone who knew far too much? “What did this person look like?”
The Lalafell continued to run his fingers along his goatee as he tried to recollect. “He was tall… but I suppose everyone is taller than me. My apologies, m’lady. I don’t remember much else that stood out. My memory is failing me.”
Faye stared down at her teacup, her hands shaking. It took all her focus to be mindful of her Magitek prosthetic, to make certain she didn’t crush the porcelain beneath the metal digits. The conversation continued, but it felt so far away, the Hyur lost in her own thoughts. Raisan had given the visitor a tour and they reminisced. Raisan offered him a room to stay at the teahouse, but the man had refused. She would ask a question as casually as she could, and Raisan would offer a response that brought her no closer to the answers she truly wanted. Her dismay must have been so apparent from across the room that Drakkaern had taken notice and wandered over to her side to offer his comfort, and while some part of her was vaguely aware of his presence, she was too preoccupied to acknowledge the poor man with his hand upon her shoulder.
“He did say he will return sometime. It should be easy to spot him if he does,” Raisan surmised. “We don’t get many Hrothgar around here.”
Faye stared at him in disbelief.
