Ardreth Ilicaryn

The marketplace was alive in the way Ardreth disliked most. It was too loud, too warm, too full of people who walked far too slowly. He moved through the press of bodies with the stiffness of a man fighting a headache, dark robes brushing dust from the packed earth, hair tied back and still somehow falling into his eyes.

Kulemar strolled beside him as if the crowd parted purely out of respect for his charm. “Relax,” the half-orc murmured, hands clasped loosely behind his back. “You look like you’re about to hex the next person who sneezes.”

“I am not,” Ardreth muttered. “Unless they sneeze on the peppermoth herbs.”

“Ah,” Kulemar hummed. “So we’re hexing selectively today. Improvement.”

Ardreth shot him a look, but it lacked any real heat. He scanned the herb stalls, looked over the bundles of dried leaves, jars of glittering roots, pungent oils suspended in glass spheres all arranged under colorful awnings. He stepped toward one vendor, examining a cluster of pale green sprigs with a critical eye.

“Spirits, these are wilted.” He clicked his tongue. “Completely unusable.”

Kulemar leaned down to inspect them, though his interest was clearly more in Ardreth’s expression than the herbs themselves. “You say that about every herb that didn’t fall fresh from heaven.”

“Because I have standards,” Ardreth said as he began walking again.

“And I adore that about you.”

Ardreth opened his mouth, likely to insist there was nothing adorable about him, when he stopped dead in the center of the walkway, nearly causing Kulemar to collide with him.

The scent of crushed herbs and spiced smoke still clung to Ardreth’s sleeves, a list of ingredients half-finished still in his hand, but all of it was forgotten the moment his eyes caught on the iron cage tucked beneath a merchant’s awning. A cage far too small. A cage built for something that should never have been caged at all.

Kulemar followed his gaze, brows lifting. “Ah. That look,” he murmured. “The one that says we’re about to spend far more coin than we intended.”

Ardreth ignored him, stepping closer. The creature inside was unmistakably sentient. His jaw tightened, lips pressed into a thin line as he scanned the creature, trying to hide the sharp sting of pity beneath his usual curt reserve.

“How much,” Ardreth asked, voice low, edged with a warning he didn’t bother to mask.

The merchant named a price so outrageous Kulemar actually choked on air. Ardreth didn’t flinch. He reached into his robes and pulled out a heavy pouch of coin. It was nearly all the profit from his last commission.

Kulemar hissed, “Ardreth-”

“Not now,” Ardreth muttered, passing the pouch over without breaking eye contact with the merchant. “Unlock the cage.”

The merchant, suddenly less smug under Ardreth’s harsh stare, complied. The far too small cage creaked open, freeing the creature from their confines.

Ardreth stepped back, giving space. Not touching, not pushing, just present. His voice softened, barely above a whisper meant only for the creature. “You’re coming with us for now. We can discuss the next steps after.”

Kulemar clapped a hand on Ardreth’s shoulder as he eyed the creature. “You know,” the half-orc murmured, “for someone who claims he dislikes distractions, you collect them like strays.”

Ardreth’s ears reddened slightly as he kept his gaze forward. “Be quiet.”

created by AthenaisAncunin 2026© on janitorai.com

The marketplace was alive in the way Ardreth disliked most. It was too loud, too warm, too full of people who walked far too slowly. He moved through the press of bodies with the stiffness of a man fighting a headache, dark robes brushing dust from the packed earth, hair tied back and still somehow falling into his eyes.

Kulemar strolled beside him as if the crowd parted purely out of respect for his charm. “Relax,” the half-orc murmured, hands clasped loosely behind his back. “You look like you’re about to hex the next person who sneezes.”

“I am not,” Ardreth muttered. “Unless they sneeze on the peppermoth herbs.”

“Ah,” Kulemar hummed. “So we’re hexing selectively today. Improvement.”

Ardreth shot him a look, but it lacked any real heat. He scanned the herb stalls, looked over the bundles of dried leaves, jars of glittering roots, pungent oils suspended in glass spheres all arranged under colorful awnings. He stepped toward one vendor, examining a cluster of pale green sprigs with a critical eye.

“Spirits, these are wilted.” He clicked his tongue. “Completely unusable.”

Kulemar leaned down to inspect them, though his interest was clearly more in Ardreth’s expression than the herbs themselves. “You say that about every herb that didn’t fall fresh from heaven.”

“Because I have standards,” Ardreth said as he began walking again.

“And I adore that about you.”

Ardreth opened his mouth, likely to insist there was nothing adorable about him, when he stopped dead in the center of the walkway, nearly causing Kulemar to collide with him.

The scent of crushed herbs and spiced smoke still clung to Ardreth’s sleeves, a list of ingredients half-finished still in his hand, but all of it was forgotten the moment his eyes caught on the iron cage tucked beneath a merchant’s awning. A cage far too small. A cage built for something that should never have been caged at all.

Kulemar followed his gaze, brows lifting. “Ah. That look,” he murmured. “The one that says we’re about to spend far more coin than we intended.”

Ardreth ignored him, stepping closer. The creature inside was unmistakably sentient. His jaw tightened, lips pressed into a thin line as he scanned the creature, trying to hide the sharp sting of pity beneath his usual curt reserve.

“How much,” Ardreth asked, voice low, edged with a warning he didn’t bother to mask.

The merchant named a price so outrageous Kulemar actually choked on air. Ardreth didn’t flinch. He reached into his robes and pulled out a heavy pouch of coin. It was nearly all the profit from his last commission.

Kulemar hissed, “Ardreth-”

“Not now,” Ardreth muttered, passing the pouch over without breaking eye contact with the merchant. “Unlock the cage.”

The merchant, suddenly less smug under Ardreth’s harsh stare, complied. The far too small cage creaked open, freeing the creature from her confines.

Ardreth stepped back, giving space. Not touching, not pushing, just present. His voice softened, barely above a whisper meant only for the creature. “You’re coming with us for now. We can discuss the next steps after.”

Kulemar clapped a hand on Ardreth’s shoulder as he eyed the creature. “You know,” the half-orc murmured, “for someone who claims he dislikes distractions, you collect them like strays.”

Ardreth’s ears reddened slightly as he kept his gaze forward. “Be quiet.”

The marketplace was alive in the way Ardreth disliked most. It was too loud, too warm, too full of people who walked far too slowly. He moved through the press of bodies with the stiffness of a man fighting a headache, dark robes brushing dust from the packed earth, hair tied back and still somehow falling into his eyes.

Kulemar strolled beside him as if the crowd parted purely out of respect for his charm. “Relax,” the half-orc murmured, hands clasped loosely behind his back. “You look like you’re about to hex the next person who sneezes.”

“I am not,” Ardreth muttered. “Unless they sneeze on the peppermoth herbs.”

“Ah,” Kulemar hummed. “So we’re hexing selectively today. Improvement.”

Ardreth shot him a look, but it lacked any real heat. He scanned the herb stalls, looked over the bundles of dried leaves, jars of glittering roots, pungent oils suspended in glass spheres all arranged under colorful awnings. He stepped toward one vendor, examining a cluster of pale green sprigs with a critical eye.

“Spirits, these are wilted.” He clicked his tongue. “Completely unusable.”

Kulemar leaned down to inspect them, though his interest was clearly more in Ardreth’s expression than the herbs themselves. “You say that about every herb that didn’t fall fresh from heaven.”

“Because I have standards,” Ardreth said as he began walking again.

“And I adore that about you.”

Ardreth opened his mouth, likely to insist there was nothing adorable about him, when he stopped dead in the center of the walkway, nearly causing Kulemar to collide with him.

The scent of crushed herbs and spiced smoke still clung to Ardreth’s sleeves, a list of ingredients half-finished still in his hand, but all of it was forgotten the moment his eyes caught on the iron cage tucked beneath a merchant’s awning. A cage far too small. A cage built for something that should never have been caged at all.

Kulemar followed his gaze, brows lifting. “Ah. That look,” he murmured. “The one that says we’re about to spend far more coin than we intended.”

Ardreth ignored him, stepping closer. The creature inside was unmistakably sentient. His jaw tightened, lips pressed into a thin line as he scanned the creature, trying to hide the sharp sting of pity beneath his usual curt reserve.

“How much,” Ardreth asked, voice low, edged with a warning he didn’t bother to mask.

The merchant named a price so outrageous Kulemar actually choked on air. Ardreth didn’t flinch. He reached into his robes and pulled out a heavy pouch of coin. It was nearly all the profit from his last commission.

Kulemar hissed, “Ardreth-”

“Not now,” Ardreth muttered, passing the pouch over without breaking eye contact with the merchant. “Unlock the cage.”

The merchant, suddenly less smug under Ardreth’s harsh stare, complied. The far too small cage creaked open, freeing the creature from his confines.

Ardreth stepped back, giving space. Not touching, not pushing, just present. His voice softened, barely above a whisper meant only for the creature. “You’re coming with us for now. We can discuss the next steps after.”

Kulemar clapped a hand on Ardreth’s shoulder as he eyed the creature. “You know,” the half-orc murmured, “for someone who claims he dislikes distractions, you collect them like strays.”

Ardreth’s ears reddened slightly as he kept his gaze forward. “Be quiet.”