V: Job

The next morning came slowly for Senna, the night having been an endless battle against his own thoughts and the uncomfortable restlessness of hunger. Sleep had been fleeting, broken by vivid dreams of blood that left him feeling more drained than refreshed.

When the pale light of dawn finally filtered through the broken windows of the abandoned house, Senna rose and stretched his stiff limbs. The hunger still gnawed at him, but it was dulled now, manageable enough for him to make his way back into the city.

By the time he reached the Church of Light's aid station, the usual line of refugees had already formed, a mix of weary faces and hopeful glances. Senna approached the yellow-robed figures distributing food, spotting the familiar man who had handed him rations before.

"Morning," the man greeted with a nod, his warm tone cutting through the din of the crowd. He handed Senna a small bundle—bread, a piece of salted meat, and a flask of water.

"Thanks," Senna said, his voice rough with the lingering effects of the night.

The man smiled, a friendly expression that seemed genuine. "We've been seeing a lot of you lately. Name's Ralos, by the way."

Senna hesitated for a moment before replying. "Senna."

"Well, Senna," Ralos said, crossing his arms as he looked him over, "how's everything holding up? Are you managing out here?"

Senna gave a small nod, tucking the bundle of food under his arm. "It's working out," he said simply. Then, after a moment of consideration, he added, "I'm even getting a job soon."

Ralos raised an eyebrow, his smile widening. "A job, huh? What kind of work?"

"Bodyguard," Senna replied, his tone nonchalant.

Ralos laughed, a hearty sound that drew the attention of a few nearby refugees. "Now that," he said, shaking his head, "is the perfect job for you. Can't imagine anyone trying to mess with you around."

Senna smirked faintly but said nothing, adjusting the hood that shielded his face from the rising sun.

As Senna stepped aside, unwrapping the bundle of food, Ralos lingered nearby, leaning casually against a wooden crate. "So, a bodyguard, huh?" he said, watching as Senna tore off a piece of bread and began to eat. "You don't strike me as the type to stick around one place for long."

Senna chewed slowly, his sharp eyes glancing up at Ralos. "I'm not," he admitted between bites. "But work's work. And this job might take me out of the city for a while."

"Ah, I see," Ralos said with a knowing nod. "Road work, then? Can't say I envy you. Never know what kind of trouble you'll run into out there."

Senna shrugged, swallowing another bite. "Trouble's not new to me. Besides, it's not like I've got many options. People up north do not take too kindly to different skin colors."

Ralos chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fair point. Still, a guy like you could probably pick and choose. You've got the look—strong, capable. Sometimes they just have to compromise and hire you."

Senna smirked faintly but didn't reply, taking a sip from the water flask.

"So," Ralos continued, shifting the topic, "you've been in Northgate for a little while now. What do you think of the place?"

Senna considered the question for a moment. "It's... big," he said simply.

Ralos laughed again, the sound light and genuine. "Big, huh? That's one way to put it. Can't argue with that, though. There's a lot packed into these streets—good and bad."

Senna nodded, his gaze flicking to the bustling crowd around them. "Seems like the bad outweighs the good."

Ralos's smile dimmed slightly, his expression growing more somber. "Yeah, it can feel that way sometimes," he admitted. "Especially now, with all the refugees and the fires. People are on edge, struggling to get by." He glanced at Senna. "But that's why we're here—to make it a little easier, even if it's just a meal or a kind word."

Senna tore another piece of bread, his jaw tightening slightly. "You've got your work cut out for you."

"Don't we all?" Ralos said with a small grin. He crossed his arms, watching as Senna finished his meal. "Still, it's good to see someone like you keeping steady. Not everyone handles tough times so well."

Senna didn't respond immediately, his thoughts briefly drifting to the hunger that still lingered beneath the surface, the monstrous strength he had to constantly rein in. "Steady," he repeated quietly. "Yeah, something like that."

Ralos's gaze lingered on him for a moment, curiosity flickering across his face. "I don't mean to sound rude, but that hood," he said casually, "why do you always keep it up? Something to do with the sun?"

Senna tensed slightly but kept his voice steady. "Yeah," he said. "I'm... sensitive to it. Runs in the family."

Ralos tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. "Sensitive to the sun, huh? That's interesting. I thought you were from Caros. Heard it's nothing but sun and sand over there."

Senna's jaw tightened for a moment before he responded, keeping his tone neutral. "It's a unique family trait," he said simply, offering no further explanation.

Ralos seemed to sense the edge in his voice and gave a small nod, letting the matter drop. "Fair enough," he said. "Well, you let me know if there's anything else you need. We're here to help however we can."

As Ralos turned to return to his duties, Senna leaned back against the wall, letting the moment of quiet stretch.

Senna wiped his hands on the rough fabric of his blanket, brushing off the crumbs from his meal. The bread and salted meat had dulled the edge of his hunger, though the gnawing emptiness inside him remained. He adjusted the hood over his head, shielding his face from the midday sun, and stood up with a quiet sigh.

The streets of Northgate felt more crowded now, the noise of bustling markets and hurried conversations rising around him. Senna kept his gaze low as he moved, his towering frame parting the flow of pedestrians with ease. The Seeker encampment wasn't far, its presence an undeniable fixture in the center of town.

As he approached, the air seemed to shift. The laughter and chatter of the surrounding streets faded, replaced by a quieter, more focused energy. The Seeker camp was orderly, a stark contrast to the chaos of the city. Rows of black-and-yellow tents formed neat lines, their golden sun emblems gleaming under the sunlight. Seekers moved purposefully between them, their sharp uniforms a reminder of the Church of Light's authority.

Senna's steps slowed as he crossed the threshold into the camp. The hum of activity surrounded him—scribes hunched over tables filled with maps and reports, Seekers discussing plans in low voices, and refugees sitting in clusters, waiting for their turn to be questioned.

"Senna!"

The familiar voice cut through the din, and Senna turned to see Darian striding toward him. The Seeker's uniform was immaculate as always, his black jacket tailored perfectly, the golden sun emblem on his chest catching the light. His confident stride and easy grin made him stand out even among his peers.

"You actually came back," Darian said, his tone teasing but warm. "I was starting to think you'd vanished into one of those dark corners of the city."

Senna shrugged, his expression unreadable. "I gave it some thought," he said simply. "Figured we should talk about that job."

Darian's grin widened, his dark eyes gleaming with interest. "So you're interested?"

"Maybe," Senna replied, his tone guarded. "I want to hear more about it first."

Darian nodded, motioning for him to follow. "Fair enough. Come on, let's step into the tent—I'll fill you in on the details."

Senna followed Darian toward a larger tent near the center of the encampment, its entrance flanked by two Seekers who gave Senna a cursory glance before stepping aside. Inside, the air was cooler, the sunlight filtered through the heavy fabric. A large table dominated the space, covered in maps, notes, and sketches of the countryside.

Darian gestured for Senna to sit on one of the sturdy wooden chairs. "Alright," he began, leaning against the edge of the table, his arms crossed. "Here's the deal. The Church of Light wants me to investigate the areas hit by the fires—villages, towns, even some remote outposts. They want answers, and I'm the one who's supposed to find them."

He paused, his expression growing more serious. "But the countryside isn't exactly peaceful right now. Bandits are taking advantage of the chaos, and not everyone's happy to see the Church poking around. That's where you come in."

Senna leaned back slightly, his sharp eyes fixed on Darian. "You want me to protect you."

"Exactly," Darian said with a nod. "I'll handle the questions, the reports, the politics—whatever. You keep the trouble off my back. It's a simple arrangement, really."

Senna's gaze flicked to the pistol holstered at Darian's hip, its polished barrel catching the dim light filtering through the tent. The weapon was no mere decoration—it was clearly well-maintained, and the subtle etchings along its surface hinted at craftsmanship that wasn't easily found.

"Why do you even need a bodyguard?" Senna asked, his tone skeptical as he leaned back in the chair. "You look perfectly capable of defending yourself."

Darian followed Senna's gaze and let out a small chuckle, patting the pistol lightly. "I won't argue that I can handle myself," he said, his voice light but confident. "But here's the thing—just because I can fight doesn't mean I should."

Senna raised an eyebrow, his expression unimpressed.

Darian leaned against the table, crossing his arms as he elaborated. "My job as a Seeker isn't to get into brawls or shootouts. It's to investigate, gather information, and keep the peace wherever possible. If I start drawing this"—he tapped the pistol again—"every time there's trouble, it only makes things worse. People already get tense when they see the Church coming. A fight would turn tense into hostile real fast."

Senna's sharp eyes narrowed slightly. "And you think I'll stop trouble from escalating?"

Darian grinned. "Absolutely. Look at you. You're huge—built like a fortress. Half the time, your presence alone will be enough to make people think twice. The other half, well..." He shrugged, his grin turning sly. "Let's just say I'd rather have someone like you dealing with rowdy locals or bandits than having to handle it myself. I can focus on the mission, and you can make sure we both get out in one piece."

he glanced back at the pistol holstered at the Seeker's hip. "What about me?" he asked, his tone casual but curious. "If I'm going to be protecting you, wouldn't it make sense for me to have a firearm too?"

Darian raised an eyebrow, his expression turning thoughtful for a moment before he shook his head with a small smile. "It's not that simple," he said. "You can't just walk into a shop and grab a pistol. In Northgate—and most of Tarsyn, really—you need a license to carry one. And let me guess, you don't have one, do you?"

Senna's jaw tightened, and he crossed his arms. "No," he admitted, his voice tinged with annoyance. "Didn't exactly get a chance to apply for one while I was working the fields."

Darian chuckled softly, the sound light but not mocking. "Didn't think so. The Church can issue permits for Seekers, but even then, they don't hand them out lightly. Guns aren't exactly common outside the big cities or the military. The higher-ups like to keep it that way—less risk of things getting... chaotic."

Senna frowned, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. "So I'm supposed to protect you with my bare hands while you get to carry a gun?"

Darian smirked, shaking his head, before leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Of course," he said, a glint of mischief in his dark eyes, "I could just request a second gun for myself and let you use it when we're out in the countryside. It's not like anyone's going to be asking to see your license out there."

Senna blinked, momentarily taken aback by the suggestion. He studied Darian's face, searching for a hint of jest or mockery, but the Seeker's smirk remained firmly in place, his confidence unshaken.

"You'd do that?" Senna asked, his voice low, unsure whether to believe him.

Darian straightened, shrugging casually. "Why not? Rules are important, sure, but sometimes you've got to bend them a little to get the job done. And let's be honest, having you armed would make my life a whole lot easier."

Senna frowned, crossing his arms as he considered the offer.

"And the pay?" Senna asked, his voice low.

"Fair," Darian replied. "The Church funds these missions, so you'll be taken care of. Food, supplies, and enough coin to keep you comfortable. It won't make you rich, but it'll get you through."

Senna considered his words, the room falling silent for a moment. The risks were clear, but so were the opportunities. Traveling with Darian would bring him closer to the answers he sought, even if it meant walking a fine line with the Church of Light.

Finally, Senna nodded. "Alright," he said. "I'll do it."

Darian's grin returned, his hand extending toward Senna. "Welcome aboard," he said.

Senna hesitated briefly before shaking his hand, his grip firm.