Some Of The Others

The night had held a rest of uncomforted sleep for Reed. Penburn allowed him to rest in the suitable room in the back of the infirmary until things got settled. 

Throughout the night, he would continue to sense the warm breath of whatever it was that he had felt earlier. He shuffled around on the couch, his mind resisting the urge to rest as it bothered him. For Reed, however, he had something unusual that put him to sleep. It was the ambiance of people and things. 

The couch had been close to the curtain-covered windows draped across the wall. But it had not dampened much noise of the occasional wagons and footsteps on the cobbled streets of the night.

It was those things that eventually rested on him and let him drift into his dreamscape. He didn't know why it was the way it was, but he wouldn't complain but accept that trait of himself graciously. Ever since he was in Yoduhrn, the small town in Ashlet and its cobbled streets, he'd fallen to the noise of the world for rest.

However, the streets not ten feet away from his ears outside the infirmary would get out of hand and suddenly carry the noises of drunken laughter and banging on the walls. Many wagons occasionally passed by his windows at once, which, instead of the soothing comfort he was in, was just a soup of erratic noise.

Eventually, Reed slept through the night, the latter half being the only real comfort it held, as he gripped with the lingering pain of his chest and his heart. He forgot he had no heart and wondered if it was pure determination or fear; maybe even anger. He was angry. He wouldn't deny that. 

Reed Riddance woke up with his teeth sore, remembering the number of times he clenched his jaw at how frustrated he was. He hated that feeling and he despised even more the way he couldn't do anything at the moment but sleep.

"When he's all cleaned up, he doesn't look half bad." A woman's voice said behind him as soon as his eyes opened.

"Give it a rest will you," another voice said, a man, "Not a minute here and you want the prize."

"Who do you take me for?" She said before he turned around slowly.

Standing there behind him were familiar faces, not in the gatemen uniform he'd seen yesterday, but in a brown long leather coat on the woman and a black and grey vest on the man. 

Reed recognized her as the one who brought him here, the one who knew exactly what to do with him, and the one who Penburn told him about, along with the two others not present.

The man, however, he had not the chance to speak to. It was the other gatemen he'd talk to. This one was behind. 

Brushing aside lingering locks of tied-up sandy blonde hair, the lady had leaned against the wall near the couch, watching Reed collect himself. 

The man stood there arms crossed, looking down at him, with a single strand of short ebony black hair crossing his left eye. This man looked around the same age as Reed, if not younger. Mid to early twenties, maybe, Reed wondered.

"You must be the gatemen?" Reed asked.

"And you must be the Twice Born Penburn told us about." The lady said, "I'm Furnella Grissa," she introduced herself before gesturing to the man. "And this is Tainch Leogris."

As she introduced the two of them, Reed's eyes wandered away from them and into their attire. He'd noticed both of them wearing a yellow cloth band tied to each of their left wrists, leaving a foot of dangling cloth. 

Remembering what Penburn had told him about their group, he recalled the term 'Hardly Hearts,' and noticed they had covered their chests fully. But for Tainch, he had a nasty scar rising from his left side, up his neck, past his vest, and near the bottom of his chin.

"Reed." Reed introduced, "Reed Riddance."

Out of nowhere, the one called Furnella burst out laughing in utter disrespect. Reeds' face began turning red at whatever she was laughing about.

"I'm sorry!" She said as her laugh turned into chuckles and eventually a smile. "I've just never heard of such an outrageous name. Riddance!" 

"Alright Furnella, that's enough," Tainch said, as he was the only one with a monotonous look in the room.

"You guys are the Hardly Hearts?" Reed said as the room grew quiet.

"I never really liked that name, I don't even know why we've got one in the first place, it's all childish to me." Furnella voiced, Reed got a sense of ignorance and annoyance from her. 

"That isn't so nice now," suddenly Tainch, Furnella, and Reed turned around to meet Penburn standing at the door. Blue vested tunics and dark greaves introduced his readiness at the conversation at hand.

Approaching the couch next to everyone, he itched the metallic monocle embedded in his socket looking at everyone.

"Reed," he started, "I see you've met Furnella and Tainch."

Reed nodded, removing the blanket from himself, showing the same buttoned vest he'd been given from Penburn yesterday. 

"Are we doing the thing?" Furnella asked Penburn.

"Depends," Penburn responded as he looked back at Reed. "Reed, would you want to accompany us in our mission, in exchange for aid to your business of you know what?"

Reed thought about it; he had a definite answer to agree to help Penburn out, but it still felt like he was leaving his old life behind even though that one wasn't accessible at the moment.

He was in nowhere he had recognized, in a situation he'd barely come to understand, and bounded by the courtesy of something he'd not known of.

"If it means taking back the life that's been taken away from me and the others, then yes."

"Great." Penburn joyed, "the thing will be done." 

"What thing?" Reed asked.

"We're taking you to a Maker," Tainch spoke out.

Reed knew a Maker once, the one who forged the medallion he'd found into his armor. But they weren't just any blacksmiths or armorers, they studied arts of the medallions and found ways to make them useful, and not many of them existed, Reed came to understand long ago.

"But I don't have a medallion." He said.

"Don't worry yourself about that," Penburn told him, "Zemizel had a broken one in storage for a long time."

"A broken medallion?" 

"I gave it to Aloysius last night," Penburn responded and quickly noticed Reed unfamiliar with the name. "The Maker, he owes me a favor, and all night he's been doing something to it, although you shouldn't get your hopes up just yet, it's either that broken one or we'd need to pluck one off from a Reaver."

"We can always purchase one, right?" Furnella said. 

"No," Penburn interjected quickly. "The Market of Dusk isn't a safe place, and finding one being sold will just keep the eyes of everyone there locked onto you. Either way, we don't have the budget to purchase one, heh." He jested.

"True," Tainch stated. 

Reed stood up, the body still aching, and now was at eye level with everyone except Tainch, who now stood a palm shorter than him.

"You know how the medallion works, with will and all that," Tainch said to Reed, "but as you know, without hearts, that will is not the same, it becomes an amalgamation of many things and not a singular clear aspect, mostly fear."

"Penburn enlightened me on the details," Reed said. "But I've got a question I hadn't thought to ask last night, Penburn."

"Yes?" 

"How do we continue living after death without a heart?"

No one said anything. For a few moments, Penburn just stared down at his feet, and tapping his monocle,

"We don't die. The knowledge of Profaners has always been shrouded by mystery, but there are things we know of, such as the preservation of the soul."

"What do you mean?" Reed asked.

"Long ago, and according to many opinions, there was a Profaner who aligned himself not with his kind but to normal people, and although this is a story told scarcely, it holds interest so people take it for an answer rather than discard it for none."

"What did this Profaner do?" 

"He said the soul plays a part in the ley line of the medallion." Furnella interjected, "No one knows what that truly means, and no one even knows if that story is even true."

"Nonetheless," Penburn continued, "they keep us alive, so we won't argue, but we will retaliate, if held against a courtesy we are forced to abide by."

"But why?" Reed Asked, "What do they need or do with the courtesies they assign, what is a Profaners' goal?"

"Who knows?" Penburn answered, "Things are just the way they are, maybe too unexplainable for us, but it's just a blockade of questions that can only be answered by action."

Reed wasn't too happy by the vagueness of their answers, but he couldn't blame any of them for something they hadn't understood.

"We're leaving now, so get yourself ready," Penburn said to Reed. "Furnella will grab a pastry on the road there, so don't worry about breakfast."

"Right." Reed nodded.

This would be the second maker he would meet, and he didn't know how a broken medallion could be fixed, but he couldn't wait any longer.

As he left the infirmary with Tainch, Furnella, and Penburn, a wave of anxiousness befell him.