15.2

She had failed to keep her promise, and the number of promises she had failed to keep could be counted on one hand. It was a blight on her mind that she pushed aside because it only brought up ill feelings for her.

So, she thought a little time apart would do them both some good. A breather in a sense. As such, the trio made their way through the crowded streets of the Capital.

"We're almost there if I remember correctly," Layla said, impatience in her voice as they made their way up the snaking main road. It cut side to side up the hill the capital had been built upon. It was wide enough for three of those fancy carriages that picked up Priscilla to travel side by side, however, the street was packed with street-side vendors and left enough for two carriages to travel side by side.

The city had been built into districts, the Salt District -where the wharf was- the lowest one, and the Cloud district being the highest, second to Dragon's Landing The wharf district contained mostly warehouses, smithies, and other industries. Most of the loudest ones pushed further away from Dragon's Landing, where the Imperial Palace stood - encompassing several grand elven built buildings. They were in the Market District, the second district.

"You can find just about anything here," Layla leaned close to Cyril to say as she held her arm in hers as not to get separated easily. Fenrir in tow. "This was where my husband and I use to travel in my adventuring days to get the best gear for our coin. There, on the corner, that's my friend's shop. My daughter should be there."

With the street backed, music drifted out of several taverns that dotted the main street they walked. Thick rope crisscrossed overhead, and red decorative paper lanterns hung from them. There were vendors yelling out their wares. "Tomatoes!" Or, "Cabbage here!", or "Fresh meat for your festival dishes!", or "Selling guards for the festival, one gold coin per--".

And amongst all this chaos, Layla pointed to a building a quarter-mile up the cobbled road. A large two-story building, nearly identical to the rest - aside from the large painted wagon across its second story building. The trio slithered through the crowd, making their way towards the left edge of the street where the building sat. A few minutes later, Cyril found herself inside a rather strange shop. Or rather, it was different than what she thought a shop should be.

The first observation that Cyril found strange was that there were very little patrons. The second was that there were no goods on display. Cyril hadn't seen what the shop sign, that had been displayed outside its door, but Layla had gone inside before she could read it. If she could've read the language.

However, the third observation had been the strangest of them all. Even with the first two observations noted, the shop was nicely kept. Its floorboards had been neatly polished and swept. The walls were decorated with signs that displayed different numbers, but as Cyril quickly found out, it was in a language she didn't know.

A large counter had been set further in the shop, unmanned. When they had entered, a bell hanging just past the door had been rung. A few seconds later, a small child appeared behind the counter from a doorway just behind it, covered with two hanging pieces on cloth that'd been painted with a wagon.

"How can I--" Savannah's usual greeting had been cut short as she saw the woman in front of her. "Momma!" The little girl's smile was like watching the sunrise again. With practiced movements, she hopped off the stool and ran around the counter. Layla crouched down and her daughter leapt into her arms. Savannah wrapped her arms around her mother's neck and buried her face into her neck.

"O, sweetie," Layla purred with relief. "Hope your uncle Tenni isn't working you hard." While her daughter working his counter had been unexpected, it certainly had been welcomed. Savannah had been bored in that backwater mining town, and manning Tenni's shop would give her something to do. That aside, Layla found herself oddly calm. Having survived three undead assaults, and traveling half the empire to see her, she only felt waves of joy and love wash through her.

But she imagined it'd be a much more emotional reunion.

Tenni stared vacantly into the dark tea before him, his old wrinkled hands barely touched the cup. He had seemed to age before Cyril as Layla told him the tale of what had passed since he left. He seemed to slowly slump over more and more as his eyes clouded over. By the time she had finished, the only man was paler than before.

"Tenni...?" Layla asked softly as she reached out and grasped his hand gently. "Do I need to call for a healer?" The man didn't look well at all, and Cyril thought he may just kill over at any minute. But that didn't happen as he shook his head softly.

"No... I'm fine..." Tenni gave out a studdered sigh, then he looked up to Layla. "But you survived. Savannah will still have her mother, but... I'm sorry I didn't believe you when you told me something was wrong."

"It's okay, really," Layla gave a brittle smile. "Even the miners thought I was crazy when I told them. If not for Fenrir out there taking me to Port Gulley, I wouldn't have survived Quinn's Woods. Even then, Lady Cyril here and Fenrir helped me as well." The undead had been merciless in their attack and slaughtered thousands upon thousands. Most of them, may their souls rest in peace, had been conscripted into the flesh-eating ranks only to be cut down again.

The wolf in question was not present along with the child. He'd been left in the reception area with Savannah. He was playing with her so the adults could speak in peace, as Tenni had said. Cyril didn't feel like an adult, rather, she felt bored. She felt that something should have stirred in her, but nothing came when Layla spoke. Not a sliver of emotion, aside from the desire to leave the room.

Cyril stared down at the empty cup in front of her, then looked to Layla's cup. Her hands clutched it tight as they trembled. The mother's face had a calm and tranquil mask, but her fingers gave her emotions away. Cyril decided that the conversation was just not her flavor. She got up from the chair as quietly as she could, exiting her role as a wallflower.

"Leaving?" Layla asked as if she could guess the goddess's intention. Cyril nodded, and Layla gave a weary smile before she mouthed an apology. Tenni had already gone back to nursing his cup, mumbling about the good people that'd been lost. The last thing Cyril heard as she slipped out of the conference room was Tenni slowly breaking down.

She slinked down the dim hallway, avoiding the employees that went about their duties. The few that saw her gawked at her, but she only smiled and slipped by. Cyril felt pent up in this shop. Maybe it was Tenni's misery that hung over it that felt so suffocating to her. Once Layla had informed him of the tragedy, the building began to dull. That was what Cyril felt at least.