There is some good and bad in this one..
Hell of a lot of telling not showing going on in the story, the revealing of Beatrice could have been better and more suspenseful, Quin at times flirts with the line of marry sue-ish, and the pace feels very rushed.
The Quin knowing Swain would be better explained by the fact he leads the country she is constantly fighting, instead of I've seen him once in the League, and Swain knowing of Quin would feel better if it was in line with the fact she kills his people and is a problem for him that he was already aware of. It would build tension between them and make all further emotional payoff more fulfiling/important.
Not enough time was given to the fun stuff like quin possible being happy Valor found a mate, before the realization Beatrice was the mate or that quin just drops down to talk to Swain, which seems odd and out of place. The way swain and Quin react to each other over all just seemed to forced and a little occ for the relations between the two city states they represent.
Valor and Quin's relationship is handled well, the characterization of them both plays well off each other and it is fun to read. The humanizing of Swain is a big plus as most of the time he really isn't given much character development outside of "really smart wicked dude".
The setting is nice and the characters of the birds are done really nicely...
Over all the story is set up well but feels a bit unpolished. I'm enjoying it however so I do hope you continue writing. Just don't be afraid to slow things down and sit in moments of tension...
Might do a lot to try and keep Swain's word choice away from words like "Can't" that imply lack of ability to do something, and shift them to words like "Won't" that imply ability to, but a choice not to. It makes him seems more in control and fits better with the character. Also avoid subtractions with swain as he is proper, so can't should be "can not". it read with more power behind it and helps to separate the tone the two characters speak in.
All and all good job and welcome to the fanfiction section. Looking forward to more form you. ^_^
Quinn wandered the streets of Noxus, slowly getting into the monotonous rhythm of the crowd, letting its flow carry her along. Despite all her fears, all her trepidations and prejudices, she couldn't help but find this place interesting. It's people, though dressed grimly, all looking ready for battle, with none of the fashion or flare of Demacian dress; all held themselves like nobility, each and every one of them walked with pride and confidence, it was so different to Demacia where all bowed and made way for the highborn. Here everyone held themselves like *they* were the highborn, from the bakers to the basket weavers, they all walked free of fear in the city of blood.
She had to admit, she kind of liked it, a smile unconsciously found it was onto her lips as she walked alongside a mercenary, his body strapped with throwing knives and a common clerk, dressed in a pressed suit, they couldn't be more different, and anywhere else the first would sneer at and tease the second, but here in Noxus they only nodded to each other with comradely respect. They were both Noxians, they were both free in this place to make their own path. In Demacia you had your destiny chosen for you, a child born to noble blood was to go on to be a captain in the military, the head of a company, or a member of the kings council. But here you made your own way in life, you chose your path, your destiny was in your hands, and every step you took along it was thanks to the sweat of your own brow. They might not be as nice a people, but they were not as subjugated a one either. She understood now why it was the Noxian's held themselves with such pride. From the man scrubbing the latrines to the tyrant himself, each and everyone knew they had control of their own life, no one was powerless here.
These musings kept her mind busy as her eyes tracked from building to building, looking for signs, the sounds of drinking and drunken carousing: any hint as to where she would be meeting the Tyrant who had her best friend. So, with her eyes so locked a good head above the crowd, she never saw the hand coming from that alleyway, and just like that. She was no longer part of the crowd, a hand grasped her by the arm and tore her from it, tore her from the warmth of its embrace and into the night black shadows of an alley. She wasn't a Noxian now, if she wasn't careful she'd just be another river of blood in the cities gutters.
Her hand came up, a bolt already loaded into her crossbow, she planted the muzzle firmly on her assailants stomach as they pinned her to a wall, their forearm planted on her neck. Even in the darkness of the alley there was enough light to give a glint to the long blade she saw them holding in their other hand. Who was this? Why were they attacking one of Swain's personal guard? Why was the crowd just moving along as if there was nothing wrong? Couldn't they see her? Her eyes moved frantically as her trigger finger began to slowly tighten.
"I know who you are, scout." said her assailant, slowly leaning forwards, their, no... Her features were caught in the thin crack of light that fell upon the alley from above, allowing Quinn to finally see who she was. The long flowing pale red mane, the glimmering emerald eyes, that unparalleled deadly beauty, marred only by a thin scar over one eye. This was the sinister blade, the Noxian's greatest assassin. The woman who had her pushed against the wall, and who's stomach she now pointed her crossbow at had sent dozens of Demacians, great and small to their deaths. If she pulled that trigger now, it was unlikely she'd have any hope at escaping here alive.
Because her life was no longer in her own hands.
Katarina held it tight.
"Wh-what do you want? How do you know who I am?!" The pressure on her neck was making breathing hard, keeping her thoughts unfocused as she scrabbled in the larger, stronger girls grip. Which, thank whatever god might be watching; was beginning to loosen a little.
"Because I'm not as stupid as your average grunt, I saw you on your way in, and I saw your pretty little birdy flying over Swain's home. What are you doing here, and how did you get that outfit?" Katarina snarled back, letting go of her slowly, but swatting away the crossbow with the flat of one of her long knives, just to let Quinn know she shouldn't be stupid enough to try anything. The young scout slowly exhaled as the pressure on her neck was finally released.
"... The Tyrant's bird has fallen for mine, that's why I'm here. Swain didn't want to separate Beatrice from her new lover, that's it. He gave me the uniform to help me get in here." Murmured Quinn in return, rubbing her aching neck as she looked at the other girl in both hope and fear. Praying that was a satisfactory enough answer for her.
Katarina in turn, blinked several times at the answer, pausing quite some time before answering, putting her blade back in its leather sheath in the meanwhile. "That stories just weird enough for me to believe it, Swain always did love that bird more than anyone else. If you'd said *you* were friends with him I'd have killed you for a liar." Her hand went back, trying to get at something in the back pocket of her ludicrously tight pants.
"So... Can I go now?" Quinn hesitantly inquired as she watched Katarina. Wondering what she was doing.
"No, I won't tell anyone you're here as long as you do something for me." Grunted Katarina as she bounced on her heels, trying to pull her hand back out of the pocket. Finally she managed it and handed Quinn a slightly crumpled envelope, sealed with a lipstick kiss. "Deliver this for me when you get back to Demacia, it's for.... It's for Garen." A faint red flush moved to Katarina's cheeks as Quinn's brow raised, she knew the two had worked together in Kalamanda, but she didn't think they were *this* close.
"I... Uh, I will." Quinn felt her own cheeks heating up at the other girls embarrassment, but still she couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Garen was thought to be one of the most handsome men in all of Demacia, and had many girls trying for his affection, even Quinn had to admit to having once had a bit of a crush on him, which Valor had thoroughly disapproved of.
"And don't you dare read it." Retorted Katarina as her blush finally began to flee her cheeks.
"I promise! Uh... I don't suppose...?"
"What?" Snapped Katarina, this was taking too long.
"Well, can you give me directions to the Haggard Stallion tavern? I'm a bit lost." Quinn gave her a weak smile, knowing she'd probably wandering the streets for many more hours if she didn't ask someone.
"What? Oh, yes, 3 blocks down, second on the right, you'll see the sign." Katarina waved her off, telling her to get moving, she seemed rather distracted and was in fact, busy thinking of how Garen would react to her letter.
"Thank you!" Called back Quinn, off and running, eager to escape the terrifying assassin the moment she knew where she was going, even if the woman's intimidating presence was a tad harmed by the fact that Quinn was now delivering a love letter for her. Katarina didn't respond, and moments after Quinn had left the alley, she'd disappeared into the darkness once more, off on other, more important tasks.
Meanwhile, Quinn finally found herself rejoining the crowd, dodging between its currents until she was swept towards her destination. In no time at all compared to her mind numbing search from before, she'd found the sign, a stallion with a dozen swords sticking from its back, head down and panting, certainly an... Evocative sign. She pulled her head deeper into the shadows of her hood. She could only hope Swain was still here, and that she didn't run into any more trouble along the way.
Of course, life's never that simple.
As Quinn stepped into the tavern, the warmth and noise of the room hit her like a wave, washing over her. In the confines of her thick jacket she suddenly felt very hot indeed, and as she looked around, her nervousness only increased the heat. The place was packed, and not by any normal civilians, this seemed to be a bar exclusively for the Military, and there was not a single person here without some kind of we-.... Okay there was one, but his shield was a better weapon than any simple soldiers sword. But, as she walked towards the bar counter, looking for signs of Swain, she realised the bar held a group far worse than the common military man.
It seemed this was the watering hole of choice for the League champions of Noxus. There was the dreaded chemist, sitting with a ludicrously fat giant in the corner over the bar, locked in tense conversation. A single look at those burning yellow eyes was enough to send shivers of fear down Quinn's spine, the mad chemist was responsible for more Demacian and Ionian deaths than any other, his chemical weapons spread throughout the battlefield killing all they touched, whether they Noxian, Demacian, Ionian or even just an animal in the wrong place at the worst possible time. If any Noxian deserved the title of monster, it had to be Singed and his former master, the one who had taught him that vile deathly art, Wawick. Who, Quinn realised as she fought to tear her eyes from the vista, was currently fast asleep beneath Singe's table. Truly he was naught but a beast now.
Finally she managed to tear her eyes away from the table and its occupants, casting them around the room once more. A voice dominated one side of the room, gravelly but not at all like Swain's cool commanding tones, this was filled with pride and disdain. There was no respect in this voice, only self-admiration.
"He thought he could get away, heh heh heh, I have to admit, the brat was smarter most. He didn't run straight he bobbed and weaved. Course that didn't prove any problem for me! Hah hah, my first throw took off his arm, but you'll- you'll never guess, he kept on going, he stumbled a bit, then just kept on running, but my next throw took off his head-HAhahaah, it landed in some old woman's purse. I could hear her screeching all the way from the execution block. Yep, that prisoner was good, but he was still no match for Draaaven." The speaker finished to the applause of his sycophantic retinue as he swept a hand through his long mane, grinning at their admirations and compliments. Quinn felt her gorge rising at how casually he talked about killing a man, how he talked about it as if it was nothing but sport. She knew that name, he was the Noxian's famed executioner, gaining the recognition he so craved by making the killing of prisoners a spectacle. Only one member of his group wasn't applauding, a much larger man with a huge axe strapped across his back, his face bore an eerie familial resemblance, he only looked down upon his younger brother with disdain as he lent against the wall. This had to be the older brother, Darius, one of Noxian's greatest soldiers. Quinn was a little surprised by how disgruntled he seemed by his brothers ranting, but she guessed either he'd heard the story a thousand times before or he thought his brothers bragging over killing an unarmed and defenceless man was pointless and disgusting.
Quinn hoped it was the latter.
"Ey! Ey miss, you gonna stand there all day or you gonna order some'tin'?" Her attention was dragged away from the siblings by a voice right by her ear, turning about she saw the barkeep before her, absently cleaning a filthy glass with an even filthier rag. She was for a moment flabbergasted, having never thought of actually stopping to have a drink here. Far too tense for the pleasurable activity of drowning ones worries in drink to have ever occurred to her.
"I... What do you have?" She decided she may as well have something while she was here, it had been hours since breakfast and, being totally truthful to herself, she was starting to get really rather thirsty. The barkeep had just opened his mouth to speak when his eyes darted to her right, a heavy mans arm falling across her shoulders and a heady blast of alcohol laced breath bringing her gorge up once again.
"Get the pretty lady something strong, on me~" Came that voice once more, so filled with pride. Oh good lord, not only had Draven seen her watching him tell his tale, he was hitting on her. A shiver of disgust, far more pronounced than the one of horror seeing the mad chemist had brought on found its way down her neck, bouncing off her spine and all of her extremities. The barkeep rolled his eyes as he turned away from the pair, having seen Draven pull this routine many a time before, as he poured the requested inhibition stripping drink, Draven lightly turned Quinn to face him, grinning dirtily down at her from under his long, flowing and surprisingly well kempt moustache. "I saw you watching me. I know, it's hard for even the best soldiers to resist me, nothing to be ashamed of." As she opened her mouth to respond, raising a hand in protest, she found a meaty, callused finger laid across her lips and a stein shoved into her hand. "Sh-sh-shh, I know, you don't need to say it, I'm the most handsome man you've ever met aren't I? Of course I am, there was never any doubt on thAGH!" Quinn's patience had reached its end. Her nerves already stretched thin by the path Valor had forced her down they'd most assuredly been snapped by this self important, stupid, ugly, boastful, rude oaf. Her hand had come up, smacking him hard across the cheek with all the strength military training and feminist pride could muster. Which was more than enough to make Draven lose his footing, stumbling into the puddle of his own dropped drink and crashing down on his rump. The entire bar erupted in laughter, even those who had been applauding his story earlier, all were glad to see the self-aggrandizing executioner brought low for once, especially his brother, who's booming laughter drowned out everyone else's as his iron shod gauntlets clanged against one another repeatedly in salute to the woman who'd finally shut his little brother up. Quinn couldn't help but grin underneath her hood and gave the crowd a mock bow.
Only for someone to grab a hold of the cloth of her hood, practically wrenching her off her feet. "You stupid *****! Who do you think I am! You think you can just try and embarrass me?! You think you can try and humiliate Draven!?"
"I think she succeeded!" Yelled someone from the back of the crowd.
"SHUT UP!" Draven was lost in humiliation driven fury as he pulled himself to his feet, taking one of his strange hoop handled axes from his back as he did so, his hand working its way down from the hood to her throat. Quinn now terrified at his incandescent rage, her hands grasping desperately at his to tear him away to no avail, the man's strength far greater than her own. "I'll show you what happens when you piss me off!" The bar was silent now, the laughter had ceased and the sounds of various blades being drawn could be heard all around, a military bar was a powder keg at the best of times and Draven had most assuredly lit the fuse. But then, just like that; it was snuffed out. The crowd in front of the door parted without a word as another patron entered the bar, dressed in ceremonial red robes, a long dark blue cape rolling from his feather laden pauldrons. With nary a word to those all around, the man swept up to Draven and his victim, laying not a strike upon him, but a simple, gentle hand laid upon his shoulder. And a word of warning, whispered through the folds of his mask and the steel of his helm.
"Draven, you do know that an attack upon my personal guard is an attack on me, correct? Is this a coup? Because if so I'd be glad to duel you for leadership as I did Darkwill." Swain felt no need to raise his voice, the threat it carried was as heavy as the city he ruled, even when the words themselves where only a whisper. The enraged executioners eyes widened as he realised who stood behind him, fear weakening his grip and letting Quinn to finally shake free. Falling to the ground as she rubbed her neck, gasping for breath.
"N- no sir, I was just... Teaching h-" Draven's voice was laced with fear, but the insipid fool's pride still won through, and likely would have sealed his fate if not for his brothers intervention. Darius had stepped through the crowds up behind Swain and laid a hand on the Tyrants shoulder just as the Tyrant had to his foolish younger brother.
"Sir, he's drunk and an idiot. He doesn't know when to shut his mouth. I'm sorry for him attacking your guard." He then turned to Quinn, who was shakily pulling herself back to her feet. "And I'm sorry for letting him hit on you in the first place, he's had too much to drink and I should have known it wouldn-" The older brothers concilliations were cut off by his petulant junior, who's bullheaded pride pushed him to the fore once more.
"I can talk for myself, that stupid ***** hit me I was just defending myself!" Thankfully, he failed to defend himself from the right hook that sent him to the floor out cold, his brother shaking his hand out as he reached down and hefted the fool over his shoulder with the other. He looked to Swain.
"By your leave sir."
"Well done Darius, I expect you to teach your brother some manners by the next time I see him."
Darius strode from the bar, all the patrons eyes following him out before zipping back to the lord Tyrant. Who was staring down increduously at his faux guard. Words only loud enough for her to hear escaped his mask as he began leading her out from the bar. "Trust a Demacian to bring the entire bar to a standstill. Do you not know the meaning of the word incognito, girl!"
As they stepped from the bar Quinn found her hackles rising, she'd been through a lot thanks to him being late, and wasn't exactly up for her buttons being pushed. "What was I supposed to do? Let that disgusting bastard kiss me?!"
That actually caused Swain to pause as he led her up the road, his cane clacking against the cobbles as they made their way towards the huge fort in the distance.
"No. My apologies. That is not a fate I would wish on anyone."
I'll be commenting when i get back from work but all in all amazing work
alrighty then, well I must say the disapproval from Darius is actually well put as well as Dravens self admiration but I must say Draven didn't say Draven enough because Draven believes in Draaaaven. Anyway, there were a few grammar mistakes but that's it just like one or two words missing. Like when Draven started to first talk you have him saying "Brat was smarter most" it just needs "smarter than most" just simple mistakes like that is what I saw really.
As the pair walked along, Quinn's usual energetic manner reasserted itself, looking up from under her hood at the man limping beside her. "So uh.... How're the birds? Is your garden big enough for them?" She inquired, doing her best to give that frightening masked visage a smile. Swain looked down at her and was ready to respond with his usual disdainful rudeness but... Well saw no real reason to, the girl was young, frightened and just wanting to see her friend again. He felt he could cut her at least a little slack, she had done well in getting here after all.
"They are fine, there was plenty of room for their nest, Beatrice lived there as it was so it was simple accommodating your eagle... How did you come across such a creature? I had thought the Demacian eagles had gone extinct decades ago, and yet one has managed to win my ravens heart." Quinn was faintly surprised at the sudden willingness to talk from the Tyrant, this was the... Well Nicest was exactly the right word, the most accepting he'd been of her since they'd met. She took a moment to respond as she let the story well up from her memories.
"Well to explain, I'll have to tell you a bit about my family. My brother and I had always been adventurous, and we dreamed of being great Demacian knights like the legends we were told to teach us proper values."
Swain snorted at the word, considering Demacian values a long way from *proper*. Quinn pretended not to hear him as she continued.
"So as we grew up, we'd go exploring, leaving our town for weeks on end as we ventured out into the wild in pursuit of danger and excitement. We found all sorts over the years, abandoned Crypts and catacombs, waterfalls the height of the Demacian palace, and all sorts of creatures, the likes of which we'd never been taught about in school. But... Well one adventure, we went far, far south, into the untamed forests, the night before we went home we were attacked in our camp by..."
Her voice began to quaver as she reminded herself of the painful memories.
"By a giant spider with the voice of a young woman, it drew us from the safety of our camp by pretending to be a human calling for help, by the time we realised what was going it, it was too late and the monster had caught me in its web. My brother managed to ward it off long enough with his torch for me to cut myself down and he told me to run, promising he'd be right behind me."
"But he wasn't, was he?" Inquired Swain, the harshness of his guttural voice all but gone by now. Quinn gave a little shake of her hood.
"That was the last time I ever saw him, as I passed our camp, I heard him scream and... That was it. I went home and didn't go back there for five years, by then I had joined the military and was a successful pathfinder. If I couldn't find my brothers body I was at least going to leave a marker for him... I didn't find any sign of him or the spider there, except for a few old cobwebs, but what I did find there was a wounded bird, a wounded Demacian eagle. I took him home with me and nursed him back to health. That's how I got Valor. I don't know if there are more Demacian eagles in the wild forests, but I'm not going to look. They have their freedom there, and if we take them all for war beasts again, this time they really will be extinct." She finished, looking down at the ground with a sad smile across her lips, she had lost her brother there, but there she had found a new one. With both enraptured in the tale, neither had noticed as they passed from the city streets to the wide open foreground of the keep itself. Soldiers on patrol and on parade, training with dummies and sparring with one another in equal measure, gone was the disorderly nature of the street, here there was naught but discipline and precision. Those not locked in practise and simply out on errands would turn their head to nod respectfully at Swain as they passed, though distracted as he was he neglected to return the gesture.
"Quite a tale, I now see why he matters so much to you... I didn't choose Beatrice as you chose Valor, she chose me."
Quinn's brows went up, "what do you mean, sir? If you don't mind me asking." She, like most, knew very little about the Tyrant's past, even his advisors and right hand man, Darius, only knew that he had one day appeared in a Noxian hospice with a shattered leg and Beatrice atop his shoulder.
"... Fine, someone may as well here the tale. And you're stuck here until I deign otherwise." He paused for a moment to remove his helmet, revealing the dark green sash he wore over his neck and face in full. Keeping the helmet in the crook of his arm, he fell into step with her once more. "I was a sergeant in the Noxian military, our regiment was invading Ionian grounds, crushing all in our wake. When *he* arrived, I never learned the man's name, but I believe him long dead now. On our way through the Ionian forests after subjugating another border town, he fell upon us, his sword moved faster than any bullet, and in moments not a man stood, some tried to run but he cut them down without a moment's hesitation, I was the only one to get a hit on him, my blade caught him right under the ribs, in response his caught me on the side of the knee, he only used the flat but he hit with such force he maimed me for life. I don't know why he neglected to finish me off, but he left me there, amongst the bodies of the dead. Maybe he thought the carrion birds would finish me off. They swarmed soon enough, picking out the juiciest of the dead and feasting upon them as I began to drag myself from the field. Some decided I was to be their next feast and their weight bore me to the ground once more. That's when Beatrice arrived, I still have not discovered exactly what she is, but she is no normal raven. That I know. Her magic tore through those who make me their meal, and it was she who led me back across the border, warning me of trouble in our path. By the time I had reached Noxus once more, there was no one I would rather have by my side than her, she and I had bonded on the journey and she never saw fit to leave my side after that." Quinn was quite frankly shocked, to hear the great Tyrant admitting to weakness, admitting to being bested, admitting that it was to Beatrice he owed his life. Now she understood the sorrow she saw in him when he thought he had lost her, why it seemed he truly did not know what he was to do without her by his side. Beatrice was his guardian angel. For a long time she didn't say a word, content to follow him as they entered through the great gates of the keep, walking through the bustling halls, finally she spoke up once more, looking him in the eye with a wider smile than he had ever seen from her across her lips.
"I can see why Valor loves her. Kind, brave, smart...""
Swain blinked once at the sentiment, before nodding, though she could not see much of his face, she got the sense he was smiling underneath that sash. "Yes, he has many reasons to love her, and is indeed a very. Very, lucky bird, for having won her heart. Though I'm still not sure why she has fallen for him."
"Oh... I think I know, Valor's a wonderful bird, even if a bit brash at times, he's the most loyal and brave friend I've ever had. If he cares for her, that means he'd never let anyone or anything hurt her."
"Hmn, we shall see then. I for one wonder what their children will look like." Internally he added, 'and what I will do with you.' but left that thought unvoiced for now. "Enough of that though, we are nearly there." He nodded to a winding staircase at the end of the hall, beginning to ascend it with her in tow, with the small width of the stairs, and Swain's impairment, the going was very slow and Quinn found herself waiting a time for him to ascend each step while she would have leapt up them three at a time. Of course she didn't say a word, to bring up his limp would only harm his ego and more importantly, his already rather low opinion of her. Which she was hoping to improve as long as she was here, she could learn a lot about Noxus by forging a better relation with its ruler, and seeing as she was stuck with him for a time, effectively his prisoner; she'd be mad to not do so. Finally, after what seemed to Quinn an eternity, they reached the top of the staircase and Swain threw open the door to his own private quarters. Stepping inside with the air of a man within his own palace, utter control, which in-fact he was and he had, from what was visible from the doorway, these rooms were a tad more decorated than the public rooms of the keep, one the walls hung dark green drapes, the same colour as Swain's sash, the floors were a thick, deep red velvet. The combined insulation of which, along with the thick stones that made up the walls, effectively muted all the noise from the rest of the fort, affording Swain his own, completely private space. Even her footsteps were muted and muffled by the thick, velvet of the floor. Inter-dispersed where portraits of the previous lord Generals, it seems he was not the first to make his home here and would by no means be the last.. As Quinn stepped in behind him and shut the door he turned to face her once again. "There is a spare room down that hall, you will stay there. You are not to leave the quarters without my consent, and if I hear word of you going anywhere in the keep you are not supposed to, believe me girl, what good graces your bird has garnered you will swiftly run out. Understood?" Quinn nodded frantically, the sudden threat taking her wrong footed after the much friendlier conversation preceding it. Though she understood why he said what he did, she was a spy he'd allowed entry into his own keep, where all the Noxian's plans, all their tactics and all their best and brightest were kept. He couldn't exactly give her free reign of the place. "Good, now put your backpack in your room, it is pointless to keep lugging it around, then I'll take you up to see Valor and Beatrice."
The smile from earlier swiftly found its way back to Quinn's lips as she practically bounced down the hall to the room, throwing open the door, she found it to be rather threadbare, a simple black quilted bed in the centre with a slit of a window looking out over the courtyard, and a wooden clothes cupboard beside it, the walls still hung with those thick green drapes. There was little of the opulence she had seen in her visit to the Demacian palace, it seems Noxian's believed in efficiency and, sitting down on the bed she realised, comfort over gilt. It was surprisingly refreshing to see the ruler not revelling in his wealth, it gave it an understated dignity, one that didn't need banners and pages to declare its presence. Quinn found herself thinking that this was all round a rather nice place for her to stay a while, a surprising show of kindness from the lord Tyrant, seeing as any time he wanted he could choose to instead have her sent to the dungeons.
After depositing her belongings, and the thick greatcoat in the room, Quinn rejoined Swain, who she found had taken the time to remove his thick steel pauldrons and his cape along with them, his shoulders relaxing thoroughly with the now relieved tension of no longer having to carry the armour atop them. He gave her a brief nod before setting off once more. Finally, she would be reunited with Valor.
I'm currently writing chapter 8. But after today I'm going to be slowing it down to 1 a day, each chapter is longer than the last and now each is more than 2000 words, soon enough it'll hit 3000 words. And with Uni at the same time, I sadly cannot manage up to 6000 words a day
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