A Glass of Irgivalss

“What is he doing here?! Did he see me earlier? Is he here to silence me???”

    Heart beating wildly, I refrain from the urge to stand up and run. No need to make myself more suspicious in his eyes. For now, I’m safe. We’re in a public space bustling with people, after all. He wouldn’t attempt anything as long as we’re in the tavern, right? Right.

    I need to calm down.

“U-Umm.” I nod, avoiding to stare at the mercenary.

    From the corner of my eye, I can see him raise two fingers, calling a barmaid.

    On second thought, assuming he saw me earlier and wanted to silence me, all he needed to do was to drag me into a narrow alley. That would’ve been more efficient. Far more efficient.

“One glass of irgivalss.” He asks, his smile polite, his voice measured.

“Yes, that wouldn’t be logical.” I try to reason with myself. “I’m safe, as long as he doesn’t realise I was there.”

“And whatever my fellow companion here wishes for.” The mercenary adds.

    Unsure how to react, I glance at him. Puzzled.

“Please, allow me to offer you a drink.” He invites. “That’s the least I can do for intruding on your table. Especially as you seemed deep in thought before I bothered you.”

    As he adds that last sentence in a lower tone, I can’t help but blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind.

“I’ll take the same thing.”

    I actually don’t want it, but there’s that pressure in my chest… it compels me to act and speak quickly. Quickly, before that man notices anything strange about me.

    Silence settles between us until Ameline herself returns with the drinks. I don’t even notice whether she lingers or not, reaching out for my glass.

    Amber ice spheres rattle in a cyan liquid.

    Noticing that the mercenary raises his glass to toast, I imitate him.

    Quartz glasses clink. Liquid licks at their edges.

“To this night. To our encounter.” The mercenary utters. “And, before I forget to introduce myself, my name is Seveg.”

“Ra-” I bite my tongue. “Gryffin. Thanks for the drink.”

    Lifting my glass to my lips I take a sip, I ready myself for the taste of alcohol to invade my mouth without my consent. But, as I swallow a first sip, I’m surprised to find out that the drink doesn’t remotely taste like what I expected. In fact, it’s closer to some kind of sweet juice.

    Seveg chuckles.

“Is that the first time you’re drinking irgivalss?”

“Well, yes.” I answer, embarrassed.

“The more the ice cubes melt, the more it reveals its flavour.” Seveg explains, rolling his own glass between his ungloved thumb and index finger. “These small spheres contain all the alcohol present in this glass. Without them, it’s like drinking a soft cocktail.”

    Listening to him exchange words with me on such trivial things, I begin to think that all of this is but a sheer coincidence. This man just happened to want a drink. It just happened that the tavern was crowded enough for him to join a lonely customer.

“For sure, that’s a drink requiring patience.” I comment.

“Ohh, believe me, it’s worth it.” Seveg resumes. “Isn’t it fascinating to know that irgivalss wouldn’t exist without magic?”

“What do you mean? What has magic to do with a drink?”

    His smile, although faintly, widens. Despite the apparent politeness of his expression, there’s a hint of… eeriness about it.

“In a modest tavern like this one, only a spell would be able to freeze this alcohol, given the extremely low temperature it has to reach.”

    My man is a magicologist.

    Though…

    I glance down at my own glass.

    I admit that’s indeed an interesting fact.

“Life wouldn’t be the same without magic in this world, huhh.” I mutter.

“It wouldn’t.” Seveg pauses. “Do you think it would be a better place without it?”

    When I raise my head, I notice that his labradorite gaze is focused on me. Smears of a pale shade of green mixed with a gradient of blue and orange shimmer over an otherwise grim base. Black lines cross here and there, as if his irises cracked in reason of the intensity with which he stares at his world.

“I…” I trail off. “Perhaps. But for things to be better, it would imply people to be less rotten. As we are, I’m sure we would make this world twisted no matter how it works.”

    Images of both this world and the previous one I inhabited flash through my mind.

“With or without magic… doesn’t it just change the way people show their wickedness?”

    A faint chuckle escapes Seveg’s lips.

    The amber ice cubes partly melted, he reaches his glass to his lips.

“Indeed.” The mercenary puts his drink down. He observes it for a while, pensive. Too pensive. “Life is a bit like this glass of irgivalss. You have to wait until it melts to feel its taste to its full extent, but then it’s too late to put the spheres back together.”

    Not knowing what to retort nor comment, I glance at my own glass. Only tiny shards of the initial amber spheres remain, the alcohol now mixed with the cyan juice.

    After that, we exchange no other words. I take a few sips of my own drink to avoid appearing too suspicious. Although, if the taste once partially melted was still bearable, once fully melted it is too concentrated for me.

    And, still, I suspect my tastebuds to be kinda numbed.

    Once he finishes his glass, Seveg simply stands up and heads to the counter. I see him retrieve from an inner pocket a packet whose sparkling content he partly pours onto a scale. This, until the weight of Orlofflesia is enough to make the different parts of the scale tilt into equilibrium.

    And with that, Seveg leaves The Merry King.

“But a hero would have tried to save the mercenary’s target, wouldn’t they?” The same thought as earlier echoes.

    Pecce’s smile flashes. Etched in my mind.

    Suddenly, I straighten up.

“Ohh, screw it! Worst case, what can happen? I die? Yes, and? I’ll get incarnated into another body. It will hurt, but it won’t be the end.” I reason to myself. “With my current pace, if I try nothing I’ll never become a hero. I’ll never honour Pecce’s memory.”

    Once the much needed dinner is paid, I hurry towards the door. I can still find Seveg, I can still do something. This is an opportunity I shouldn’t miss. Even if I’m a coward.

“Wait!” A familiar voice erupts behind me as I cross the threshold. “Where do you think you’re going like this?”

    As I turn around at the feeling of a hand pressed to my arm, I’m surprised to see Ameline. For some reason, she rushed after me.

    I try to understand the reason when it hits me as an evidence.

“Hey! You shouldn’t assume like this that people are thieves. I paid for my dinner. Ask the innkeeper!”

“That’s not what I meant!” She exclaims, much to my surprise. “You are about to do something stupid, aren’t you? Don’t mess with that man. Really, don’t mess with him.”

“You know him?” I frown, glancing at the same time at his figure already growing distant in the night streets.

“Who doesn’t?” Ameline retorts. “Or at least, who hasn’t once heard about him in town? And everyone who has knows that, if you don’t want your life to be shortened, you stay away from the Stray Dog.”

    Stray Dog? Is this Seveg’s affectionate nickname?

    It takes a couple of seconds for my brain to connect the dots.

“Wait… This means many know that this man is a mercenary, that he kills people to sell their hearts, and nobody does anything about it?”

    Ameline opens her mouth to speak. Ameline closes her mouth.

    No sound consented to escape it.

“Why not reporting him to, I don’t know, the town guards?” I add.

“Because you genuinely think that would change something?”

“Huhh?”

    Instead of replying at once, Ameline shakes her head in disbelief. She seems deeply discouraged by my reaction.

“Gryffin. I don’t know what’s going on with you lately, but fleeing reality won’t change it. You can’t one day start denying it and hope that everything around you will change accordingly. It won’t. It never does.” She sighs. “You know that this is how things work. No guard would care about a mercenary. They know people like him allow craftsmen to do their job. There aren’t enough gemans dying from natural causes to ensure their prosperity. So, sometimes, things like that happen. It’s life.”

    I am not the best example of compassion. I haven’t it in me to get depressed for a stranger’s death. And yet. Even to me, there’s something infuriating about such words.

“Are you saying that’s normal?” I ask.

    The barmaid shrugs.

“Many of us are more precious dead than alive. It is what it is. No one can deny it.”

    But, despite her reply, Ameline averts her gaze.

    Still, to hear that stuns me. Is this because I’m originally not from this world? I can’t understand how she can accept that any artifact would be worth killing to create it.

“A hero would stop this…”

    A hero…

    I widen my eyes as my thoughts focus anew on Seveg. Turning around, I still manage to distinguish his figure in the distance.

“Ohh, how I hate running…”

    Not lingering any longer, and despite Ameline’s protests, I hurry to tail the mercenary.

𖢻 𖢻 𖢻

    If not thanks to Fufu, I would probably have lost Seveg the Stray Dog’s trail midway. But, as he sensed me in a bit of a struggle — euphemism, my beloved — my Fufu pouch changed back into a cloud, fwih-fwihing something before rushing after the mercenary.

    I was running in slow motion when Fufu returned after a while, guiding me to the house where Seveg seemingly entered.

“If I wait until he leaves his house, until he’s gone, I can find a way to enter. And then, maybe I’ll find something about his dark plans. Maybe a list, maybe the identity of his victim. Or I’ll just find a hate letter from his ex-girlfriend.” I reason, waiting for hours now. “While I do that, I can still ask Fufu to follow Seveg. Smart, am I not? Joking. But if I keep following him closely for who knows how long, I’ll get caught in no time. I can feel it in my guts.”

    My little cloud wrapped around me, I fight the urge to close my eyes, my eyelids fighting the laughable protest.

“Fwiiih! Fwih!”

    By the time a Fufu alarm wakes me up, my snores resonate through the streets.

    With a groan, I open my eyes. Still safely hidden on the opposite side of the street, I catch sight of a figure I wish wasn’t familiar. Seveg.

    It’s already dawn. The shadows are receding, no longer concealing his unbothered expression as Seveg leaves his place.

“Remember the plan, Fufu?” I whisper to my sidekick.

“Fwih.”

    He floats away, pausing to turn a glance at me. As if seeking reassurance. My unwavering reply is a raised thumb.

    His mithril eyes briefly quivering as if about to sob, he finally grows bold enough to leave my side. Whizzing through the air, he disappears along with Seveg’s figure.

“Now’s the moment!” I mutter, straightening from my hideout to join a certain half-sphere dwelling.

    Only when I reach for the knob do I realise that it might be a bit more difficult than what I had in mind. Of course, it’s locked. I guess even the best plans have flaws.

“But, I won’t give up!”

    Very heroic-sounding, right? I spent part of the previous hours preparing for moments like this.

    Giving up on the main entrance, I focus my attention on a nearby window. Ready to break through, I realise it isn’t even locked. A bit astonished, I stare at the panels opening with a creak under the push of my fingers.

“A man like him would forget to lock his windows? An assassin?” I frown. “He didn’t give off the feeling of a careless man.”

    After a moment of hesitation, I decide to proceed nonetheless with the plan. For the time being, there’s still nobody outside. If I miss my chance, I’ll attract grannies’ unwanted attention. The kind who sleep little and hurry to take back their place at the window to spy on their neighbours because their own lives are too uninteresting.

“Yooishhoo!” I mutter as I hoist myself to the windowsill.

    Once inside, I’m surprised by how… basic the interior looks. Empty, even. From a man like Seveg, able to ponder about a drink as if he were evaluating society, I expected… I don’t know. Books, elegant pieces of furniture. Not the absence of any strictly unnecessary ones.

    Deciding to find clues despite my initial confusion, I begin to skim through the mercenary’s belongings.

“If I find who the victim is, I might be able to go and find them first. I’ll tell them to leave the town.” I plan. “And if they refuse, I’ll kidnap them and kick them out of Felbalia myself.”

    But, as I keep rummaging through the contents of a bunch of drawers, I find a book covered in leather. Taking hold of it, I skim through the first pages. The name scribbled in the corner of the first page makes my heart miss a beat.

“Gryffin’s.”