Ties and heartbreaks

This was supposed to be the happiest day of their lives. At least so far.

“My little watchful mage” Bor whispered as he was waking up slowly next to Beon.

The large Minotaur was hugging the half-orc who was still asleep. His rhythmic breathing was subtle, if not careful, one could hardly tell if he was even alive. Bor ever so slightly tightened his embrace, careful not to wake Beon, but also bringing them closer, and closing the small gap between their bodies. It was warm between them, a sharp contrast to the chill outside. He could hear the pitter-patter of rain away from their little place, the noises of townsfolk running about, doing their business, or socializing. They must have slept in, but he didn’t mind. Despite not wanting to wake him, Bor could not resist the urge to caress Beon over the shoulder all the way he could reach to the middle of the thighs.

He was so small… There are a lot of full-blooded orcs and quite a few orc blooded, but their stature was always imposing, even dominant, as if the purpose of their existence is to fight. Being half-blooded of course meant he was smaller than a full-blooded orc, but even as compared to his mother, the Spell scribe, Beon was small. He was on par with most humans, having a decent, proportional body, but lacking the intimidating musculature most of his race prides on. In a way it makes sense - Beon was mostly spending his time with the books or having long contemplative walks, only practicing his father’s fighting lessons with a knife.

And that is why Bor was so nervous about his present. It was a fine dagger, with a mostly black oak handle that had strips of hide tightly wrapped around it for better grips, whereas the blade itself was made of metal and pearls. He considered how the artisan and blacksmith couple outdid themselves, using their respective traditional trade secrets to make these beautiful unique gifts. And in a way, the bull feared Beon might take the present as a rude reminder of what he is not - a prodigious warrior to match his father. Truth be told, he himself often admitted that he feels he couldn’t even begin to understand the full breadth of his mother’s work. More proud people would resent such statements. But Beon was calm about it. Bor disagreed though because he saw the potential the half-orc did not. Despite splitting his attention, his labors were effective. His sight was unmatched, keen attention to details and sharp wits allowed him to connect apparently unrelated events into narratives that unveiled the truth behind crimes.

Bor closed his eyes and moved his muzzle into the crevice on Beon's neck. There is still one question he didn’t know how to answer. Why did he love him? Or rather, how has it come to have this level of intimacy, caring, and wish to enjoy the simple pleasures of life by his side?

Was it that soft, yet determined power of his eyes? The way he never gives up? That cute way he blushes? Or was it the words of Spell scribe? For all that Bor knew, her words that he “is the one that will make Beon turn the world” might as well have been a spell, even though she never cared to expand on her words. At first he considered Beon a bit too clingy, a sad-eyed lost soul with a cute face. But over time he came to know that that glitter in his eyes is merely an illusion that hides a kindling fire of stubborn determination. Over time, this lithe half-orc broke all Bor’s defenses and gave him something unnoticed and unacquainted for the longest time. Simple acceptance and love.

Bor was a warrior. Even more than most here, he was bred to be powerful enough to lead conquests. And despite choosing a different path and bringing the infernal fanatic cult of his tribe to the end, he was a paragon of martial prowess. He never knew that a warrior's life is only ever so complete as feeling another heartbeat beside his that would be an endless well of inner strength he couldn’t match before…

Beon stirred in his sleep, awaking slowly and he gently petted the bulls head, shifting so they could face each other. With sleep still heavy on his eyes. Beon smiled and kissed Bor, but before the kiss could have been returned, a sudden need to yawn overpowered Beon and he opened wide in a grimace, leaving them both to chuckle.

---

It wasn’t until they were getting dressed for the big day ahead, the resolution of their first and quite possibly last case together. But they both decided to amend the wound with surprise gifts. By this time tomorrow, Beon would be back in the archives most likely and Bor probably gets to rest a few days before another violent crime gets shoved at him. But Bor was secretly working his hardest to get Beon on the town watch. And if today went right, just maybe…

“I’ve got you something.” Bor finally gave up holding a surprise and produced the dagger in it’s sheet that had scale like pattern despite being made of leather. Beon examined it slowly. There was a pause. Just as his previous fears started to crawl in the back of Bor’s head, his effort was rewarded with a smile.

“It’s beautiful. I really like it, Thank you!” Beon affixed it to his belt and struck a pose of a daring swashbuckler about to perform a dashing flurry of attacks with the blade. Bor managed not to correct him in the proper way to hold the weapon, but did let a soft laugh.

What Bor did not know was that as Beon hugged him, a small item has been placed in his pouch.

“Shall we review what we know so far?” half orc asked as he was tying his hair in a bun, secretly congratulating himself on a successful sleight of hands.

---

The weather is rainy, but doesn’t appear to be growing into a storm thankfully. Despite that, there are quite a few people outside, trading, socializing and just bringing some life to this otherwise bleak morning. There were also some people off in the shadows, not caring to socialise, but still listening in on general words about or smoking a pipe under various covers from the rain. One such smoker in the shadows was a rather gruff looking celestial, smoke slinging to his blacks curly hair and horns, his eyes having faint teal glow as they diligently followed the general russell of the morning, keen on hiding that his actual focus in on the inconspicuous door across the merchants road. 

Gorrok was waiting, watching at the suspected place there the ritual would be done. Be it luck, smarts or more sinister means, the little half orc was right about the place - there were various seemingly unrelated individuals gathering there. The place looked like a private property, but lacked any immediate telltale signs of anyone actually living there and all the individuals that came in didn’t come out. Not even those that came in since yesterday. This case left him conflicted. Gorrok disliked Beon, something about him was just off, despite being Captain Kian’s nephew. But he only became a distraction as Bor, for whatever reason, fell for him. He felt as if it left Bor more lenient and less focused. 

But at least after today that will end, if all goes well. Despite disliking him though, Gorrok did appreciate Beon’s ability to connect what originally looked like a series of unrelated events into a quite possibly serious conspiracy against the triumvirate of Khariks itself. Still, having sharp eyes was not enough to be a part of the watch and it could end up breaking him. He was just too timid and weak. Against his protestations, Beon would accompany them today. It will be difficult pulling off an arrest against the possible ritualists and while Beon’s skills could prove handy, the man himself did not instill trust in Gorrok.

Then he noticed Bor, not even trying to be sneaky with his swagger. He was pretty imposing when he wanted to be, a good foil for Gorrok that was sneakier, but also more eloquent. They are a good team. And by the way he’s walking, he was signaling that they are about to rush the house. Beon on the other side was good at not drawing attention and approached Gorrok.

“We should have some more time at our hands. Did you notice anyone suspicious? Do you think it’s the right place?” Beon spoke fast in a hushed voice.

Gorrok just nodded and started to extinguish and stash his pipe in slow deliberate moves, still giving the door his full attention.

Beon looked as if he wanted to continue speaking, but restrained himself. Gorrok finally broke his gaze and eyed the orc blooded young man, before letting a sigh.

“You know this is on you. You figured this out. We are following your lead. Even if you made a mistake, at least look confident. Last thing we want is to follow someone that has no bone to back his words.” Gorrok drew his hand crossbow and looked to the side as the last player in this little investigation appeared. 

Right by the door was Kian, dressed as a drunkard with his hair in a mess and something spilled over his tunic. Despite the convincing act they all knew that he was sober and probably hiding more blades on his body than anyone could pull off without getting cuts in quite a few places. 

“Let’s do this then.” Gorrok whispered as he whistled. 

Bor casually strolled to Kian as if a city watch would to a drunkard, but then Kian rushed for the door, which appeared to be locked. He gave the signal and Bor just grinned fiercely and kicked the door in starting the action. Kian rushed inside followed by Bor and soon enough there were sounds of a conflict. Gorrok and Beon also rushed, but their job was to secure if anyone was to prevent anyone from entering or leaving until the two inside subdued everyone, came out or called for help. Beon, being somewhat adept at magic, weaved illusions to make a ring around the door to show people that the town watch was at work here. But then he noticed something. Like a dark arrow or a lightning something streaked from inside.

Beon rushed inside to see that there were several people, all sharing completely black eyes and soulless smiles, some of them alive, some dead. Bor and Kian were still fighting and subduing the last few when their magic circle and a central artefact started glowing. Just like that, in a second, it was all over.

When the shadows exploded, Kian was at the ready, but there was nothing he could do. Bor was going to reach for manacles, but he grabbed the ring Beon hid in his pouch earlier that day. All different kinds of expressions on his face just turned into horror as he too was swept by the shadow. Gorrok managed to follow Beon inside and seeing what was happening tried to shield him with his body. And Beon was just slowly falling as his legs betrayed him. He wanted to say so much.

“I love you”

“Look out”

“We should have more time”

“I failed”

“I’m sorry”

None of those words was let as his knees hit the hard wooden floor. By then it was too late.