Liron had celebrated for a good while after escaping the wolves. He had cursed their names, spitting the most vile insults he could, earning a few laughs from Angin. But after hours on the bike, his euphoria had devolved into boredom. The bike was too large for the forest path they had taken, but Angin had proven himself a capable driver when evading Illaxia's fire. He succeeded in navigating the narrow road.
The Alchemist didn't allow them a break, wanting to create as much distance between them and the beasts. They would continue with their pursuit, their loss fueling their desire for revenge. The explosion might have attracted attention from somewhere else. The outpost and ruin were deep in a forest, with no town in its close vicinity. An abandoned place like this had eyes and ears everywhere, though, and they couldn't say who they belonged to.
Liron held onto Angin's robe, having lost his nervousness on the bike. He watched the passing surroundings, but they all looked the same. An endless expanse of hills, fields, and forests, reaching for the horizon. They drove on a common road. Its poor condition spoke volumes of its lack of usage.
As they climbed a hill, the engine of the bike roaring with its acquainted furiosity, roofs became visible. Unlike the grey ones from Eisenrahm, they were red, going against the enforced regulations that dictated how houses had to look. Seeing civilization again after a lifetime in the wilderness left Liron with a bittersweet sensation in his chest. The folks down there would demand his head, but he hadn't realized how much he had missed the safety of solid walls.
Before they came any closer, Angin slowed down, stopping in the shadow of a lone tree, hiding them from view.
"Why are we stoppin'?" Liron asked.
"Well, we can't just walk in there like this," Angin said, pointing at their faces and hair. He played with a strand of his. He had tried grooming during their time at the outpost, but his mane still appeared wild and messy, bringing him great sorrow. "They'll realize who we are in moments."
"Oh, of course. So… what? Do we put on, like, masks or… scarfs? No, that'd be too suspicious."
"Indeed…"
Liron narrowed his eyes. "What do you want to do?"
"Well… you won't like that, but I assure you, there is no other option. We need to go through that town and stay there for a night. So… I'll be just frank with you. Liron, I need to shift around your facial features."
Liron blinked, hearing a mad laughter inside his head. "You're jokin', right?"
"No, I'll do the same with me. I'll also change our hair color. I will change us back… eventually. But from here on out, we'll come close to several towns and cities and have to go through some of them. Until we escape the Empire, we'll look like strangers to ourselves."
Angin got off the bike, popping his fingers. "Well… let's start," he said, waving Liron to himself. "Come."
"Oh, no… No!"
"Enough! I won't argue with you for an eternity! I'm sick and tired of sleeping in the wild on dirt! I will have a proper meal and a hot bath tonight! You know there is no other option! Solia's tits, you got body wrecked by Amor, and I fixed it, right? You think this is my first time doing something like this? It's not. So, no more arguing, and now come here."
Liron ground his teeth, swearing to himself as he got off the bike and walked over to Angin. They sat on rocks lying at the tree's side. Angin pushed Liron's hair out of the way, running his fingers around his features. He nodded, mumbling foreign words, mapping his face.
Liron didn't notice when Angin began. Only after a tingle rippled through his skin, his vision shifting slightly, did he know that the Alchemist had started. It took him a few minutes, his focused eyes glaring at him, radiating with a passion for his craft. After he was done, he pushed Liron's head around, looking at his creation from several angles, and went on to his hair. This time, Liron felt nothing beside the Alchemist's hand pushing through his strains.
Liron stared at his clasped hand, sighing. The procedure stretched on until Angin let go of him, smiling. "Wonderful," he said, handing Liron a mirror made of Nanium. The green surface was smoothed over, reflecting anything it pointed at.
The young man staring back had similarities to Liron but appeared much more beautiful and noble. His eyes were bigger, his nose slimmer, and his lips fuller. Everything symmetrical with a skin as flawless as marble. While the mirror couldn't reflect color, the silver of his hair showed itself nonetheless.
Liron had played with the thought of dyeing his hair, but what purpose would that have served? Everybody in Eisenrahm knew he was a Ravenspawn. Seeing it now, his biggest imperfection gone, Liron felt uneasy. Robbed of all his flaws, he didn't recognize himself anymore. Like his old self was gone. No, it was hidden beneath a pretty veil, distracting from what was once clear to see.
Angin beamed at him. "Great, right?"
"It's… impressive," Liron said, looking at himself from different angles.
"I know. It's my specialty, after all. You'll have to pose as my apprentice, and every apprentice to an Alchemist has to look the part."
Angin pressed his fingers into his face, Liron holding the mirror in front of him. With suppressing ease, Angin pushed his features around. He manipulated his face with a trained speed like Emma played her lute. He had mastered this act long ago, sacrificing years to perfect it.
Within minutes, he finished his face and hair. He kept it long but turned it into curls as silver as Liron's. His face kept the same grace and beauty, but he had emphasized his masculine features, appearing more dominating. Liron was impressed by the feat, but Angin wasn't, sneering at his reflection.
"Disgusting," he said, taking the mirror and jumping back on the bike.
He said nothing more, looking grim. With his new face, he appeared like many posters of Julius Kraft, the Mad Berserker, covered in scars, leading his troops against the Qilesh. Why had they depicted Julius with scars? Couldn't he pay an Alchemist to heal him? Liron was tempted to ask Angin, but he thought better of it, sitting behind him.
As they drove into the town, all eyes were on them. The Machina demanded attention. Angin wore plain clothes, similar to Amor's. Several outfits were stored in the outpost, Liron having received a copy of Angin's, which lacked a few pieces adorning it. Both were thin white shirts with a brown jacket, having heaters sewn into them. They and the Machina showed the wealth and position Angin and Liron seemingly had.
Unused to any attention not drenching with contempt, Liron pulled his scarf into his face. His clothes kept him warm, and he had taken a liking to them. It fit his look, and Angin had given his approval after correcting dozens of mistakes he had made in presenting himself. Despite winter's departure, the people had their thick robes on. Liron felt naked compared to them.
Angin stopped only once, asking for the inn. The man answered him at once, tense and fearful of the Alchemist. Angin gave the man a coin, and they headed straight to their destination.
It felt alien at first, but Liron enjoyed the attention they garnered. Suspicion, fear, and respect followed them and their Machina. But something brighter shone in their eyes. Awe. Awe for a position, a life, they couldn't even imagine. Dreaming to be in their shoes, a sin in itself. How could a plebeian dare to believe, even for a second, they could be an Alchemist's apprentice, let alone a fully trained one?
As they put the bike into an empty horse stable, similar to the one in Eisenrahm, Liron had a faint smile. The admiration, no insults. The way the common folk parted in front of them, making space. Combined with his achievements in battle and Angin's constant praise, Liron's step gained a swing. A vivid one, free from his sin.
Angin, used to the reaction, hurried forward, entering the inn. Liron, keeping a slower pace, followed him inside. Eerie how this place looked just like Mr. Schnauzer's pub. There were superficial differences like the roof, the wood used for the furniture, and the overall layout. Distinct yet so alike. Like estranged siblings.
Angin marched to the counter. Before the man standing behind could even say a word, Angin slammed a coin on the counter. A Nummus, Angin had explained. The four countries of the Empire all had unique coins and money. Regions often had a different currency from one another. Nummus were above them, accepted all over the Empire. Only officials or people of importance were authorized to have them. A single Nummus was worth a fortune. It would buy one legitimacy and loyalty. Owning one without the Empire's will would mean becoming a Sinner.
The bartender stared at the Nummus, taking it. Usually, a Nummus wasn't supposed to be used in such a way, but Angin had explained that most folk that were in contact with travelers took them, all behind the Empire's back. Liron didn't bother following Angin, taking a seat at a table, bathing in the looks thrown his way. Angin joined him, his bad mood starting to lift as two mugs were placed in front of them.
The service girl, clearly the bartender's daughter, had a nervous smile on her lips, too wide and bright to be true. She had skipped several customers, taking their orders and running into the kitchen, her damped voice giving orders like her life depended on it.
"What is that face?" Angin asked.
Liron leaned backwards, clasping his hands behind his head. "Nothing. Enjoyin' the moment and the… lu… luxury. Didn't you say we should?"
Angin grunted. "At least you make use of the words I taught you. Don't get too cocky, alright? You should have a decent amount of it, but don't overdo it. Could become… less fortunate for us."
Angin glanced around them, making sure no one was near enough to eavesdrop. He kept his voice low. "We need to be cautious. Our mission is yet to conclude. So, keep focused."
Their food came soon after. Meat with potatoes and sauce. Liron's family had eaten like this once a year, celebrating his and Emma's birthday. Taking his cue from Angin, Liron took his time eating, showing the proper decorum. Shoving the meal down his throat and cleaning the plate with his tongue might have signaled to the ones present that Liron wasn't a highborn after all.
Liron glanced out of the window while eating. The town was surrounded by fields growing grains. The plants were twice his size. It had to be a hustle to harvest them.
Angin followed Liron's look. "Rare to find a farming town in Nordland."
"Why?" Liron asked.
"Nordland is mostly producing weaponry and armor for the battle in Sannara. That and it produces soldiers. The cold here makes you… more resilient."
"More what?"
"Tougher. You are used to harsher circumstances. Lorsos specializes in food production. And art. So, it's rare to see a farming town in Nordland. There aren't many of them."
Liron nodded, finishing his meal. Angin wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Liron, you go get our stuff, and I will get us a room."
Liron emptied his mug, the cool water embracing his dry throat, and walked outside to the bike. Their torn backpacks were easy to carry, but the massive bag filled with Angin's gear was a different thing. Not seeing the need to go twice, Liron dragged it all in at once, Angin's staff clutched in his armpit.
The Alchemist took the bag off Liron, not liking the look of Liron. "You should have gone twice," he whispered. "We can't risk causing even more attention, alright?"
Their room was the biggest in the inn, spacious for the town. Liron threw himself on the bed, as did Angin. He sighed in relief. The cushion felt like a cloud, nestling against his back. After days in the wilderness, the sensation was almost overwhelming, his body not used to the softness.
Liron sat up. "Angin… can I get a beer?"
"A beer?" Angin asked, looking up. "Sure… yeah, you go and get yourself one. But don't drink too fast. Can't have you get drunk in the middle of the day. We still have a few things left to do. Just go to the barkeeper. He knows you're with me. Will give you one."
Liron grinned, jumping to his feet. He wanted to run out of the room, sliding down the staircase. He caught himself before the Alchemist had to say something. With a confident step, he strolled down, leaning against the counter.
"One beer… please."
The bartender examined him, not having the same respect for Angin. But without a word, he filled a mug and placed it in front of Liron. It tasted like piss. His father had let him try his beer a few times, so he knew the horrid taste. He had hoped that perhaps after defeating Amor and proving himself, he would appreciate the taste, finding a liking to it. But he didn't.
He took his time with it, each gulp forced. Liron looked around the inn, watching the people. They had grown accustomed to Liron's and Angin's presence, but they threw him curious glances from time to time. Liron enjoyed each of them, bathing in them.
Two men entered the inn and sat down next to him. They didn't know how Liron was… or who he claimed to be. Liron let it slide, despite being tempted to scold them for coming too near. But he had been on the receiving end all his life, so he wouldn't do it to others.
Starting to get bored watching the people, Liron eavesdropped on the man next to him. They gossiped about folks in town, discussing rumors. As they seemed to have nothing of interest to say, Liron finished his beer, grimacing. He put down his mug on the counter, about to leave, as one said something that made him pause.
"Yeah, they've got the Ravenspawn's sister."
"The one the Empire wants?"
"Who the fuck else? Do you know another one?"
Liron's eye twitched and his mouth hung open. "Excuse me," he said, "what did you just say?"
The two men eyed him, not too pleased to be addressed by a youth. "What do you want, boy? We didn'..."
The bartender cleared his throat, giving them a warning look. Not the first time, apparently. Their demeanor changed, all hostility having gone. "Ehr…," one of them said. "The sister of the Ravenspawn. You know… from the… thing. The Inquisition has her. Is supposed to be executed in Kupferrang. They just announced it."
The man pointed towards the entrance of the inn. A blackboard stood there, posters attached to it. Liron ran towards it, kicking his chair to the ground as he dashed forward. He hadn't gotten good enough to read them, but he didn't need to. A stake set afire, with a depiction of a sister bound to it, burning.
Liron's vision wavered. A thick fog swallowed him whole, drowning out the chatter of the inn. The bartender said something to him, but his words never reached him. His skin tingled like hundreds of needles scratched him, slicing away his flesh. The only thing Liron stayed aware of was the beat of his heart. It hammered in his chest, echoing throughout his body. Slow at first, a sound reached Liron's head, growing in strength. Emma's cries as the flames scorched her legs, black as coal. She screamed for him, begging for help until she cursed his name.
"It's your fault!" she screamed, the fire claiming her, leaving nothing but her agony.
Liron ripped the poster off and stormed back into their room. The confused looks of the folk in the inn meant nothing to him. Angin tinkered with his gloves as Liron slammed the door shut. His legs gave way, and he collapsed on his knees.
Angin pulled off his gloves, grabbing Liron by his shoulder, his breathing rapid and panicked.
"Liron, my boy, what is it?" Angin asked, sounding alarmed.
Liron couldn't speak, pressing his hand over his mouth as he handed over the poster. Angin read it, his eyes going wide. "Fuck," he whispered.
"An… Angin?" Liron said, fighting against his tears. "We… we need to save her."
Angin read through the poster again, taking in all the information he could, searching for something useful. Liron grasped the fabric of Angin's trousers, having lost the battle against his sobs. "Please. I beg you. We can't let her die. Not like this. Please. We need to…"
Angin watched Liron, somber yet collected. He ran over everything he knew, trying to figure out all potential outcomes. He closed his eyes, his features strained and conflicted. As he opened them, they had gained clarity, a conviction not there moments before.
"We will save her," he said. Liron didn't hear him, continuing to beg. Angin shook him. "Liron, listen to me. Liron! Yes, we will save her. You have my word. Do you hear me?"
Liron nodded, his words failing him again.
"But Liron, I will be honest with you. This is a trap meant for you. Our chances are close to zero. We need the Resistance's help. If I ask them to aid us in this, your debt will increase. You won't just become a part of us. They will turn you into a slave. Your sister, too. And even that might not be enough.
"You understand what this means? They will never let either of you go until they have gotten all the value out of you. You and your sister will never be free again until there is peace. Do you understand this?"
A life of war and death was the last thing Emma would have wanted. How could he decide such a fate for her?
"Yes," Liron said without hesitation.
It wouldn't have been the life either of them had wanted, but they would be together at least.