Chapter Text
Yeonjun sighs and rolls his sore shoulder. He knew this is how hiring worked when he joined the guild six months ago, but he can’t help but feel a little humiliated, like a ham on display at the butcher’s shop.
The guild master impatiently waves the last three of them into the great hall, a room not all that great, wooden and no bigger than a horse barn. “Alright, stand up straight, if none of you get chosen and the client goes to the guild in Silverton, so help me…”
Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Yeonjun massages absently at his wrist and wishes he could get back to the training yard. Whoever it is isn’t going to choose him anyway; they never choose him. Literally, he has never been chosen.
It makes him feel embarrassed, which in turn makes him angry, because he knows he’s a fantastic archer who shouldn't have to feel embarrassed. But when some merchant is hiring a mercenary because they’re scared to cross the twenty mile stretch of wilderness to Five Ports, they aren’t looking for an archer. They’re looking for one of the scarred up, knotted meatheads with a shield and sword they can hide behind. Idiots, all of them.
The doors open and all of those meatheads are posturing around him, making their biceps bulge and trying to pass it off as a natural way to stand. This time, Yeonjun doesn’t squash the need to roll his eyes.
“Come in! Yes, right this way, please,” the guild master’s voice has risen in false sweetness as he ushers in the client, directing them to the center of the room where they can survey the line of mercenaries for hire.
Well, the client is at least not what Yeonjun was expecting. Rather than the usual middle-aged doughy, bejeweled merchant feigning superior boredom, this client is young. Young, but seemingly very serious, with huge, round eyes that rarely blink and posture that his grandmother would’ve praised ‘til she lost her voice.
“You may select up to three for a demonstration,” the guild master informs him, sweeping a hand across the line of them.
A pang of frustration at a curiosity Yeonjun knows he won’t have satisfied: who is this young, intense non-merchant? What is his business?
The man nods once and starts his inspection at the end of the row, staring intently at each mercenary, without betraying any sort of reaction or decision before moving his gaze to the next. Endil, meathead #1, Roryn, meathead #2, Anora, a meathead as much as the others but she at least has the sense to admire Yeonjun’s skills, Torrent, not his real name, and Fang, also not his real name, though he claims it is.
And now, Yeonjun. The man’s gaze slides to him and Yeonjun gives him a small smile. The man blinks and moves on to Gorn the Great, who insists on being addressed by his “full name”, as he calls it.
“Two, six, and eight,” comes his steady voice.
It takes Yeonjun three full heartbeats to realize he’s number six in line. “Oh,” he says with a little surprise. He’s only gotten chosen for a demonstration once before.
“Excellent! This way to the training yard, if you please,” the guild master ushers him to the side door, waving an impatient hand for the three of them to follow.
It's cool and sunny in the training yard, empty save the doves pecking around beneath the trees. Roryn smirks as he picks up his broadsword and beats a straw-filled dummy to bits with much grunting and unnecessary war-crying. Number eight was Filna, who drew her gleaming sword with ritual seriousness before shield bashing another dummy to the ground and spinning to plant her blade into its chest. Yeonjun sighs and steps forward, bow in hand.
Nocked, drawn, aimed, released. The messy hemp bow that tied one end of the clothes line to the wooden pole on the far end of the training yard frays apart, the line of fresh white linens slumping elegantly to the ground.
Filna gives a squawk of anger as she watches her undershirts bloom brown with mud, but what Yeonjun hears is the quiet hum of surprise from the odd prospective client.
He turns to stand back in place beside the other two and winces when Filna gives him a short jab in the arm and a scowl. Yeonjun kicks her in the heel, but she’s wearing studded boots and he winces in pain.
“The archer.”
They all whip their heads in surprise.
“The-? Yeonjun? Well… well! Excellent. This way to my office, please, Yeonjun, come on then,” The guild master gives him a quick gesture of impatience and the three of them move inside, making their way up the creaky stairs and entering the small, lavish office of the guild master.
He motions them both to sit, client smile pasted to his face, and he rummages in his cabinet of many drawers for the appropriate papers, pen, ink, wax, and stamps, laying them out on the desk before them before he sits on the opposite side.
“Well then! Introduce yourself,” the guild master says to Yeonjun, practiced pleasantness not quite edging out all of the annoyance.
“Choi Yeonjun. Um, from Reyes,” he adds, because simply his name seems a pitiful introduction.
“Kang Taehyun. From the Summer Isles.”
Yeonjun’s eyes fly a little wide. The Summer Isles are a group of dozens of islands far to the west. ‘Far’ as in he’s never met anyone from there before. He’s never even met anyone else who’s met someone from there before, he's pretty sure.
“Oh, a wondrous place, yes?” the guild master asks with a pleasant smile but does not stop for an answer. “So, we have three copies of the contract, one for each of us, please fill in your names on your copies and hand them to me. Right then, thank you.”
Pen poised, he fixes upon Taehyun. “State your necessity?”
“Well…” Taehyun pauses and searches the sky as if trying to figure out exactly how to explain.
“Protection, I’m assuming?”
“Well, yes, protection, I suppose-”
“Duration?”
“Duration? We don't... quite have a fixed destination. I cannot say exactly how long it’ll take-”
“We can just say under a year,” the guild master assures him, scribbling on each of the papers. “Any special provisions? Requests?”
This Kang Taehyun hesitates again, thinking hard. He turns in his chair to face Yeonjun, big dark eyes staring into his. “Do you have any fear of ghosts?”
A grin threatens to pull at Yeonjun’s lips. He speaks like a little lord, or a priest, he thinks to himself, half amused and half charmed. Do you have any fear of ghosts, praytell? He mocks in his head.
“Ghosts? Nah. Not that I’ve seen one, but. Nah.”
Taehyun nods, accepting the answer. “Any other strong aversions to anything… supernatural?”
Curiosity furrows Yeonjun’s brow. He’s not sure how to answer. “No? Not really?”
“Are you opposed to hiding from an attacker, rather than attacking?”
“No. My job is to keep you safe, and the best way to do that is to not have a conflict in the first place, right?” He slides his eyes to the guild master. “I’ve… definitely never been a part of any thieving or breaking and entering, definitely, but I am very good at being quiet and unseen when needed.”
The guild master shoots him a glare but Taehyun just nods.
“Do you have any hatred of the Iluven?”
That question surprises both him and the guild master. The Iluven were a secretive race, human, but not. They were tangibly connected to the realm of fae, which gave them all sorts of magical abilities, raw and elemental.
People could accept the magic of the mages, orderly and regulated and needing the assistance of a staff, or a crystal, or herb. That was alright, nothing so otherworldly, nothing so different from a skilled blacksmith, or a weaver, or a farmer. The magic of the Iluven, however, was inaccessible. It was other . It inevitably only caused resentment, fear and loathing to become widespread against them.
Why would he ask? Was he himself Iluven? Nah, there's no way.
“No. No I don’t hate anyone, and actually, my-” He stops himself, thinking of the guild master who barred entry to the guild to anyone who even claimed association to Iluven. “I knew someone, when I was younger, an Iluven. Really nice person.”
Head cocked, Taehyun’s gaze lingers on him. Satisfied, apparently, he nods and turns back to the guild master. “No special provisions.”
“Excellent. You’ll see here the percentage owed the guild from Yeonjun’s wages, here it states that the guild is not liable for loss of life or property, if Yeonjun should die during the duration of service, the guild will return your deposit but not the rate of salary due up until that point, calculated on a daily basis. If there are no other questions, please both of you add your name stamps at the bottom here.”
A cotton pad soaked in red ink is provided, and they each produce their name stamps from pockets. Yeonjun’s was simple, carved from hickory wood, but Taehyun’s, he notices, is carved from some kind of gleaming white stone, intricate designs of moon and stars lacing the outside.
Maybe he is some little lordling , he thinks to himself.
Name stamps are pressed to ink, blotted on the ink cloth, and pressed to the bottom of three copies of contract. The guild master is shaking their hands and babbling pleasantries, rolling up each paper tightly and sealing them with a yellow wax seal.
“One for you, and for you, thank you. Per guild law, Yeonjun can claim 12 hours notice before departure, Yeonjun, do you claim the full 12? Do you intend to depart tomorrow morning?” he asks Taehyun before Yeonjun can answer.
“Yes, in the morning.”
“I only need a few hours,” Yeonjun answers. “Unless I need any particular supplies?”
Taehyun shakes his head. “No, your regular equipment should suffice, we have everything else needed.”
He grins, wondering when the last time he heard someone say ‘suffice’ in regular conversation was.
“Please meet us tomorrow morning at the Oaken Foe, at 7:00, if that’s not too early.”
“Ah the Oaken Foe, an excellent inn,” the guild master exclaims when Yeonjun nods, and stands to usher them out of his office. “Excellent indeed. Well, a pleasure doing business with you, Kang Taehyun, I wish you both great luck and health, you’ll see attached to your contract the name and address where payment can be sent upon completion. Thank you, thank you again, have a lovely day, yes, thank you,” he waves them down the hall outside his office, dipping and bowing and smiling sweetly until they descend the stairs.
“So, 7:00, yeah?” Yeonjun says when the silence quickly becomes loud.
Taehyun nods, apparently not feeling the silence. “We’ll be traveling by horse. We have one for you, unless you already have a horse.”
“Nope, can’t say I do. So this job is… so- protection, yeah? You sure an archer is- I mean no complaints, thank you for hiring me, it’s not that, but-”
He has no idea what he’s really trying to ask. Taehyun shakes his head with a small smile.
“No, I meant to hire you,” Taehyun assures him and smiles, friendly enough but there’s an intelligent calculation still apparent there. “We’re perfectly able to protect ourselves if someone is close enough to swing a sword. I really had no need to see the other two mercenaries’ demonstration, but it seemed rude to choose you straight away.”
That was all sorts of intriguing. What kind of situation lets someone be ‘perfectly able’ to protect themselves at close range yet need to hire a mercenary? Who is this ‘we’ that Taehhyun keeps referring to anyway?
A door opens across the room. Rowe, mace in one hand, mug of ale in the other, scowling at them before disappearing into the training yard.
“Thank you,” Taehyun says, opening the front door of the guild hall and turning with a short bow. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
And so, in the morning, before the city clock tower chimes the 7th hour, Yeonjun walks into the Oaken Foe, a cozy inn whose dining room was empty besides the innkeeper and one patron who was sleepily sipping tea and reading a novel by the fire.
“You’ll be Choi Yeonjun, then?” The innkeeper asks after giving him a once-over. “Head on up, they’re expecting you, second door on the left. Need a biscuit?” she calls just as he reaches the stairs. “Cheddar and chive,” she singsongs, waving a basket of biscuits at him.
“There you go,” she says in satisfaction when he doubles back to take one with thanks. “Take another, shouldn’t travel without biscuits, I always say. There you go.”
They’re warm from the oven and delicious, he finds as he walks up the stairs and stuffs in a few more bites.
He knocks on the second door to the left with a biscuit-clutching fist. It opens, and the hair on his arms stands on end.
“Hello,” says a stranger. Voice soft, eyes soft, lips soft, skin soft.
Mouth full of biscuit, Yeonjun blinks back. Chewing furiously, he swallows a painfully large lump, and laughs, waving at his full mouth in apology.
The stranger looks a little embarrassed for him, eyes softening further, ears a bit pink.
Gods. Even in thought it's the only word that will form. Yeonjun is smitten and he knows it.
“Hi,” he finally manages, staring up in this person’s dark eyes, taking in the way his lips purse shyly. He’s tall, taller than me. He’s so pretty, gods, he’s so damned pretty-
“Are you…? Sorry I forget what name Taehyun said, the mercenary-?”
“Yeonjun, yes! I’m- yes, I’m a mercenary, the one Taehyun hired, hi-”
“Hello,” the man says again, shyness increasing as Yeonjun flusters.
“Hello,” he replies again with a grin and winces at himself. “And you are-?”
“Oh! Soobin. Sorry, I’m Soobin. You can come in, Taehyun will be back any minute and we should be ready to go.”
He sets his heavy pack down by the door and sits at the tiny table beside the set of beds. He looks around the room and gives Soobin an awkward smile, who has perched himself on the edge of a bed, arms squeezed uncomfortably into himself.
He is so pretty. Imagine sucking on that pouty bottom lip. Imagine- No, get a hold of yourself, make normal conversation, for gods’ sake.
“So, uh…where exactly are we going? I didn’t really get much information yesterday. Which is fine! I don’t need to know to do the job I was hired for, I guess, but…”
Soobin sighs heavily. “We’re not exactly sure. Probably to the north. I guess I can say for sure that we’re heading north, and from there, hopefully finding out that’s the right direction.”
“But… the right direction for what?”
An odd, squirrelly look comes over Soobin. His eyes flutter away, hands fidgeting in his lap. “Something was stolen from us. From me, really. And- we’re trying to have it restored to me.”
A simple enough answer, one Yeonjun never would’ve questioned if it wasn’t given in such an evasive, twitchy manner.
“Oh, Taehyun,” Soobin says, suddenly perking up and looking toward the door despite no one being there.
But sure enough, a few seconds pass and boots can be heard up the stairs. Yeonjun gives Soobin a curious look, but then Taehyun is entering the rooms and greetings are made and biscuits are passed around.
“The innkeeper insisted,” Taehyun says with a smile, the entire basket of warm biscuits looped over his arm. “She is very kind. Perhaps we’ll catch some salmon today and have fish sandwiches for dinner.”
Biscuits packed, room checked over, they make their way downstairs, returning the empty basket with much thanks, and make their way out into the cool spring morning.
The stables hold the warm, familiar smell of hay and horses and leather, quiet hoof stamps and snuffles.
“This is the horse we have for you,” Taehyun says, stopping in front of a wooden stall. “Her name is Jessu. She’s very fast but… a bit ornery, I’m afraid…”
Soobin snorts at that assessment, which worries Yeonjun a little.
“Hi Jessu,” he says softly, holding out his hand for her to smell. “Oh, I know what you would like, hold on.”
Jessu stamps and warbles a low sound in her throat as Yeonjun rummages in the side pocket of his pack. He pulls out a pink apple and, fingers digging into the center, rips it clean in half.
“Wow,” Soobin exclaims.
Yeonjun tosses him a grin and offers half the apple to Jessu, who has forgotten to side eye him in eagerness for the treat. He smiles as the fuzzy lips graze his hand, scratching her neck as she eats.
“There you go. We can be friends,” he murmurs. “Ready for your saddle? Yeah?”
Soobin is still watching them, a thoughtful smile on his face, but he turns away quickly to busy himself with his own horse when Yeonjun turns to smile at him.
They set out, the clop of horse hooves on city stone changing to softer thuds as they exit the gates and weave through the village beyond. Houses slowly dwindle, becoming farther and farther apart as the green valley narrows and begins to rise into foothills.
It’s beautiful on this spring morning, the river that winds through the valley wide and rushing with cold snow melt, bright green grasses still glistening with dew, trees bursting with new leaves, the occasional plum tree a bouquet of pink blooms. Goats and sheep graze on the hills, chickens peck around houses and scatter with annoyance when their horses get too close.
Jessu is well-behaved so far, only yanking on the reins a bit, more to remind Yeonjun that she can than anything else. Taehyun leads the way, his posture the easy correctness of someone who grew up riding horses daily, someone who was taught to ride horses.
Soobin is in front of him, pale skin glowing warm in the morning sun, talking quietly to his horse, chuckling a little sometimes as if his horse told a good joke. It’s odd, and endearing.
“He’s fine, Tip, come down, ” Soobin says louder, holding out his arm to the left as they enter a grove of huge, gnarled oak trees.
“What-?”
A magpie bursts from a tree to land on Soobin’s arm, startling Yeonjun. Jessu chides him for his loud yelp and tosses her head.
“Yes, yes, hello to you too,” Soobin laughs, tearing a chunk of biscuit from his saddle bag for the bird to nibble on. He slows his horse and turns as Yeonjun approaches.
“My friend Tip,” he says, extending his arm.
Yeonjun glances at Soobin with a grin. An awfully cute way to introduce a pet. “Hello Tip. Good biscuits, huh.”
Tip cocks a black, gleaming eye up at him, bits of bread stuck to his beak. He makes a funny hiccuped click and hops around on Soobin’s arm to face him.
“And how did you and Tip meet?”
He meant it to be a little funny, but Soobin takes it as a regular question.
Fingers scritching absently in the black neck feathers, Soobin hmms and considers for a second. “Well. Animals tend to like me. Tip just flew down a few weeks back and said-”
He blushes, noticing the odd look on Yeonjun’s face. “He talks?”
“No, not- well. The point is, he likes to warn us of troubles up ahead, or good things, like persimmon trees up an abandoned farm road.”
Clearly, Soobin thought this clarified things. They trot along in silence for a moment, and Yeonjun tries to leave it alone, but, “I’m sorry, how does he warn you?”
A blush overtakes Soobin’s ears and Yeonjun almost forgets his curiosity, torn between wanting to protect him with his life and wanting to throw him down and do unholy things.
“Because he- you know. Mages can communicate with animals.”
He thinks long and hard about every mage he’s known. Not many, to be fair, but still, he’d never heard of it. And then a shock straight through him-
“Hang on, you’re a mage!?”
Soobin blanches and throws a wild glance up at Taehyun, who is pretending not to hear. “Oh! Yes, sorry, I suppose I didn’t actually tell you. Yes, a mage. And mages can talk to animals, so. Yes.”
With a nod and frown of contemplation, he trots beside Soobin for a moment.
“Is that a Summer Isles thing? I’ve never heard of a mage who could do that. I heard a story once about a potion being made that allowed you to talk to wolves, but I think that was just a story.”
Soobin, who had been trying not to squirm, looks relieved. “Yes! Yes exactly, all Summer Isles mages can communicate with animals.”
“Huh. I’ve always loved animals too, you know. Not that I can talk to them, but they feel almost like people to me, you know?”
There’s a pleased little smile on Soobin’s face and an enthusiastic nod. “Yes, they are people. They’re just not human ones.”
Tip has moved to Soobin's shoulder, rifling through Soobin's hair and nibbling on the ends. "Go visit Taehyun," he grumbles when Tip manages to catch a tangle.
The bird obeys, landing on Taehyun's shoulder and squawking in his ear. It's not that Taehyun isn't friendly, he's just very... serious. So Yeonjun is a little surprised to hear him giggle, loud and genuine when the magpie nibbles on his earlobe.
"Is he...? He's not a mage too, right..."
"Taehyun?" A laugh of surprise. "Gods, no. You don't see his sword?"
"A mage can't have a sword?" Yeonjun retorts.
"Generally not, no," he laughs, giving Yeonjun an incredulous look, and motioning to his lack of weapon.
"I think they could! Why couldn't a mage learn to wield a sword and do mage things?"
"They could. Maybe- I don't think I could, but." Soobin gives a little self-depreciating shrug. "But it's not allowed. It's not- not a law, but it's not- I don't know."
They walk along for a while over sloping hills, the mountain range they need to cross looming ever-far in the distance. it's still a strip of cold blue on the horizon, snow dusting the highest ridges. Here in the valley, the sun will be warm on his face and the grass will be green beneath his horse's feet for at least the next two days, and for that, he is grateful.
"Speaking of, shouldn't you have a staff?" Yeonjun asks so abruptly that it makes Soobin jolt.
Startled, he holds his palm up between him and Yeonjun. A gleaming black egg of stone is fastened in place by thin silver chains that loop around his hand and in between his fingers. "I just use this."
"What kind of magic do you do with that? I don't know anything about magic, really. The mages for hire have their own separate guild."
"I uh... well... the normal kinds, I was trained in all the normal kinds."
"So do you-"
A rush of feathers nearly slap him in his face, followed by a peck and a croak.
"I told Tip you have an apple," Taehyun calls over his shoulder with a grin, but sticks him with a look almost like a glare.
Curious and unsettled, he stares back until something stabs his thumb. "Ow! Alright, Tip. Leave my fingers alone, I need those."
"Soobin?"
A guilty look at the sound of Taehyun's voice. Soobin bites his lip and urges his horse forward to catch up to Taehyun.