"And it's empty, fantastic," Teller wasn't a stranger to failure, but this was getting rather ridiculous. Through all his failures, this was definitely one of them. Another nail in a coffin adorned with far too many nails. His impulsiveness will now all but surely lead him to a river of nuisance. He held the opened pendant in the tavern light, cursing every god from here to the depths of Vestalov. Why was every loose end turning into a dead end? Luck was never his strongest suit, but must it always be so? It appears I've swindled Dretton for absolutely no reason. Well, his temper is a rather entertaining spectacle. Shouldn't stick around too long to bear witness to it.

Teller glanced over his shoulder to survey his surroundings and assess the inspiring citizens of Moonfall's Rast District. The tavern was clutching at strings. Jovial drinkers turning rowdy, Wonderlust being popped in dark corners, the musty aroma clinging to the air like a lost child returned to its mother. Two men lay passed out on the floor in a dazedly drool, and no one seemed to bat an eye. Truly an illustrious representation of what humankind is capable of.

Teller was familiar with establishments like this, of course, but that didn't mean he couldn't judge everyone there. Anything to keep his hollow sense of propriety intact. Sure, he ate with them, drank with them, and dressed like them, but he wasn't one of them. He was a man of mystique, charged with uncovering the most elusive myth in history. Dretton had hired him for the strictly monetary benefit of finding such a myth, yet it was neither here nor there now.

Teller leaned an elbow on the bar, inspecting the pendant with mild desperation. Did Dretton already open it? It looked vaguely like a globe at first glance, but it showed no land masses, just a mass of randomly assorted dots connected by thin white engravings. A celestial sphere? There's an enormous one of these at Corin Star, isn't there?

Teller brought his eyes forward, returning the opened pendant to his pocket, and noticed a girl take the seat next to him at the bar. She pulled out the stool and sat, letting out a giant sigh in the process. Lightly tanned with a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheek. Black hair down to her shoulders, dressed in simple shirt and trousers, and clearly unbothered by all the insobrieties. Ashurian? You don't see that every day. Ashur being the isolationist, closed-off country that it is, they were quite the rarity. "Whitestar, please," the girl requested in a light accent.

Teller eyed the girl's brave drink choice with a copious amount of suspicion. The barkeep casually brought the bottle forward with a short glass on top, "2 matz," he said, tapping the wooden surface while offhandedly looking over their shoulders. The Ashurian slammed down 20 matz on the table. "Leave the bottle," she said to the dumbfounded barkeep who then turned and eyed Teller, "If she dies, do please let me know." Teller offered a tipped-up drink as a gesture of acknowledgement, then he wandered off to see to a disturbance at the back of the tavern.

"An unpleasant day I take it?" Teller asked as she knocked back her drink. She met his eyes and lightly nodded. "Going to impart some wisdom on me?" she said, a sarcastic smile creeping on her face. 

Wisdom. Teller was shortchanged on that these days. A man of his age should know how to operate in this world, but all he knew were the ramblings of fools who sit and let their minds wander. Every embellished tale, every bard who heard whispers, Teller was an expert in this court. Nothing useful of course. He looked down and stared into the mix of brown and black in his drink, lost in brief thought.

"'The universes secrets lay hidden in an ocean painted black and white. Conquer these waters and the world will only know fire," he exclaimed, then took swig of his drink. The girl eyed him, a slight recognition in her brow. "Ryker Stronghold." Teller lifted his head with a hint of surprise.

"Admirer of his?"

"In a manner of speaking." She looked down, tracing the rim of her glass with a lone finger, "That doesn't spark much inspiration."

"Ahh, no, it doesn't. But it's one that always stays with me; a man burdened with knowledge is an appealing tale."

"He's also a man burdened with non-existence."

"Who's to say he's dead?"

"The people who attended his funeral probably. You don't seriously believe the conspiracy about him faking his own death, do you?"

"Why not?"

"It's non-sensical."

"Whether he did or not, it does make for a compelling story," Teller said, his eyes drifting towards her. 

"So, what brings you so far from home? A young Ashurian girl all the way down here is another tale worthy of interest."

The girl looked up from her drink, a cold flicker of light in her eye. 

"I wanted to learn about our world, free from any 'destined purpose'," she stared into the middle distance with a narrow numbness, rubbing her thumb against the side of her glass, "And now I get to listen to old men drone on everyday about Maia's storms and her listening stars. Wherever I go that bloody thing in the sky won't leave me alone."

"Hah, she is rather invasive on most days. But I find comfort in her persistent overbearing nature. Like a mother's humbling eye, watching over us."

"Or it's just a massive planet of gas plastered across the sky."

"I find that to be a boring summation."

"You really think that if you go up there, you'll find her carved face hidden beneath the surface?"

Teller paused, "You know, in the east, Maia doesn't even grace the sky. Not in the night, not in the day. And not a single day is bestowed an eclipse to enrich the afternoon." The girl reacted subtly sharply to the last part, interesting. Teller continued, "Vyrian's who make the journey to the west aren't greeted with border guards or a western metropolis. They're greeted by the seat of our god, and it changes them. All of them."

"Wonderful. Your point?"

"Maia is real. Her influence is real. Look no further than yourself."

Her eyes flickered with anger.

"People are the reason I fled. Not some god that doesn't exist."

"And who do those 'people' answer to?"

"Some god that doesn't exist."

"Well-"

A thunderous noise erupted behind Teller, coupled with a familiar, emotionally unstable voice. "TELLER!" the lout screamed. Teller swivelled, his panic slightly swelling, to see a very angry and wet Dretton Hayworth. The tavern, which just moments before was a bustling sludge of foolhardy fraternising, now lay as silent as a funeral procession. Teller sighed. "Maia, preserve me," he whispered under his breath as he slipped off his stool.

Dretton stood in the middle of the tavern with all the posturing of an immature rich boy, his waistcoat, and trousers as wet as his receding hair. He wears the look exceptionally well.

"Dretton! What a lovely surprise! I would have invited you out for drinks if I knew you available!"

"Where is it?" Dretton hissed.

"Where's what?"

"Jorr's Key you swine! Larton saw you take it!"

What the hell was that moron doing there?

"Well, clearly there's been a huge misunderstanding!" Teller said. "I've been with Miss…", Teller spun and gestured towards the Ashurian girl, urging her to finish his wonderfully thought-out alibi.

"Selyana,"

"Miss Selyana the entire night, so how...", Teller paused, looking back at Selyana. "Is that your first name or last name?"

"Both,"

"Interesting. So, is your first name Sel?"

"ENOUGH!" Dretton screeched as he strode towards him with exploding anger, his rings glistening in the tavern light, ready to form an uncomfortable experience with Teller's person. He squared up to him with a very unpleasant look in his eye, "I could have sworn your eyes were-.", Teller was cut off by a sharp kick to the shin. Dretton then grabbed Teller by the jacket and threw him to the floor. He crashed into a pillar, back first, letting out a heavy wheeze.

The tavern's inhabitants didn't see any need to disperse or run, most just sat there, and watched, some mild entertainment being dealt out for the evening rather than any sort of real threat.

"Teller, we're going to play a game. I kick, you talk," Dretton said, then kicked Teller in the stomach. He grunted, lying face first in the grimy dust of the tavern floor boards, the scent of dried alcohol permeating his winded body. "I love that game," Teller replied, hoarseness in his voice.

Teller scrambled on the floor, trying to right himself. The situation, it seems, was slowly spiralling out of control. I just need a distraction.

At that moment, Jorr's Key slipped out of his pocket onto the floor, the chain unfurling before the both of them, Stars above.

Dretton knelt down and looped his finger in the chain, raising it as he stood. "Well, that answers that question." He dangled the pendant in front of himself, and as it rotated, he noticed that it was open. Teller squirmed, sitting up against the pillar, meeting Dretton's eyes.

"How did you open it?"

"So, you didn't? That's a relief."

"What was inside?"

"I know my track record hasn't been great, but I'll hold my hand to my heart and swear in Maia's name that the pendant was definitely empty."

Dretton closed the pendant, putting it in his back pocket, but not before giving Teller a firm, ring-filled sucker punch. Give me a break for once, please. He called for his two lackeys to come over and drag him up, dumb, grubby hands fumbling his armpits while Teller's nose lightly gushed some blood. What were their names again? Teller stared ahead, mildly dazed, contemplating his choices in life.

"Teller, here's what we're going to do." Dretton said while tying up his hands, "You're going to come with us, and if you don't answer our questions, we'll start cutting little bits off! Now doesn't that sound fun?"

"Not particularly, can I return to my drink now?" Another ring-sodden punch landed on Teller's face. None of the spectators it looks like would be offering their aid in this endeavour; even the Ashurian girl had turned her head back towards her coma-inducing drink.

All the colours of the tavern swirled and merged as Teller was slowly dragged across and out into the street. Dretton's carriage stood, waiting like a sentry. No roof, that's why he was so displeased. The betrayal and theft probably didn't help either.

As rain poured in the street, Teller, still restrained and staggering on the spot, saw a sparkling gold light rocking back and forth at the bar of the tavern. The Ashurian girl held the pendant's chain through her middle finger and locked eyes with Teller. He tried to focus, the mild concussion and alcohol must be playing tricks on him. But no, Jorr's Key swung in the air, she then quickly snatched it up into her hand and stood up. Her face completely changed, she smiled deviously, winked, and then walked briskly across the room, out of sight.

Dretton, who was loaded onto the carriage, seemingly hadn't noticed. Soon after, Teller was dragged on to the back with the two lackeys, and the carriage set off on its way. Rain splashed the cobbled street in the dim, mucky light of Moonfall's Rast District, Maia's all-encompassing nightly glow a blur in Teller's vision. But one thing was becoming clear; all of them were well and truly, swindled.