Page 2 of Badmouths & Bards

Cercel paused at the nickname. Tala wasn’t the best with keeping names straight in her head. There was only ever really any room in there for food, rage, and Avie. The latter of which drew Tala’s fingers to the charm at her waist. Rough fingers caught on the silk tassel before they closed around the opal stone attached at the top.

“Mikol has been with the Valiant Circle since he was a child. How do you not know his name by now?” Cercel questioned.

“He’s human” Tala tightened her grip on the gemstone, shoulders tight in defense. “We all kinda look the same.”

That was a lie and a bad one given how humans were some of the most diverse looking denizens of Ordia. No-name was nearly as pale as Cercel was, with fawn colored hair, and a nose that had crunched so easily against her knee. Tala’s skin was closer to brown garnets, eyes a warm amber hue, and a face that said ‘fuck off’ before her plush lips could. The only thing weird about humans was their ability to make babies with anything that crossed their path.

Literally ANYTHING, Tala thought as she recalled the half-human, half-slime girl she had met briefly during the Moon Maiden festival.

“And all drakonis look the same,” Cercel said, dryly.

Tala tried not to laugh derisively. He had a point, given the sheer variety in drakonis scales alone, not to mention their colorways. The point was that despite how much Tala liked Cercel, she had a big problem with authority of any kind. Specifically, she had the urge to disagree regardless if she agreed with him or not.

It was difficult to explain—not that she was planning on spilling her heart out to Cercel. The guy was nice enough, but Tala’s heart only really had enough space for one person, despite what her appearance may have stated. Gods knew she wasn’t the warmest person to be in the room with, but she knew there was something appealing about her. Tala had been hit on enough at the Tipsy Top Inn to know she was at least somewhat attractive.

Tits or no tits.

Tala spared a glance at her nonexistent chest. Honestly, she didn’t know why she even bothered wrapping her breasts beneath her top. It wasn’t like they were going to poke someone’s eye out the way Avie’s generous bust would have. A few layers of cotton wasn’t going to protect her from a sword or arrow, either.

“What do you want from me, Cercel?” Tala asked, glancing toward the training ground.

Most of the disciples had already dispersed for the kitchens or the halls for worship. A few stragglers who were still practicing their grappling technique remained. Human, elf, halfling, and a few orcs that couldn’t have been older than Tala had been when she first entered the Sanctuary of the Moon Maidens.

“What does the White Dragon represent?” Cercel asked.

Frowning, Tala’s gaze drew back to his. Dragon face or no, Cercel’s expression showed no trickery. Only patience as he held her eyes.

“The Dauntless Verity is the Law Keeper. She holds two eggs in her jaw, weighing them equally. A symbol of fairness, justice, and harmony.” Tala recited.

“Do you think what you did to Mikol represented any of the White Dragon’s values?” Cercel asked. “Do you think your reaction was fair, just, or inspired harmony?”

“Just for me,” Tala retorted, before holding her arms out to her sides in exasperation. “Fine. It wasn’t fair, just, or inspiring harmony. Happy?”

“No,” Cercel sighed. “Not really, but I guess I expected too much.”

Despite herself, Tala’s eyes closed on reflex. Rejection stung even if it was from a figure of authority. Another part of her fucked mentality—or whatever bullshit the Maidens had fed her during collaborative discussion. If there was one thing Tala was thankful for was that she didn’t have to sit through Poppy’s grief over her pet pseudo dragon’s untimely death. As if the micro dragon hadn’t been over twenty years old when it died.

“Great, so I’m still a disappointment,” Tala deadpanned, eyes turning sharp. “Glad to see I’m still fulfilling the prophecy.”

“You aren’t—”

“But I am,” Tala said, jaw tight. “I’m not upset about it. That’s why I’m here, remember? The Maidens couldn’t handle me so they sent me here. And once I burn through all of the Law Keeper’s disciples, I’m sure the High Conservator will do the same.”

“Tala…”

Fuck this.

“I gotta pee,” Tala blurted.

Cercel didn’t try to stop her, which was in his best interest as Tala felt the urge to punch itching in her fists. There was no telling what she might have done with the way the anger had reignited in her chest. Tala stomped past the outer rim of the training yard, ignoring the comradery of the younger disciples. Her feet led her away from the shadow of the temple and toward the familiar gardens.

Despite the continents dominant drier climate, the city of Eshorian remained lush. It rained often enough that the trees were green year round, despite the Sun Bringer’s strong presence. Tala found sanctuary beneath a massive tree with droopy branches. Plants weren’t really her thing unless she was eating them, so the name had always escaped her. Sad tree worked just as well as any official title.

Not that Tala was sad, far from it as she dropped her weight onto her ass at the base of the tree trunk. The ground was soft but dry as she slammed her fists down. Thoughts were scattering through her head so fast that it reminded Tala of the first time she had taken a punch to the face. She hadn’t even realized her opponent had made contact until her nerves had caught up.

The noise was always there in her head. No amount of meditation would ever fix that, despite the High Priestess and Cercel’s best efforts. There was just too much anger—too many feelings that kept Tala’s attention. Abruptly, Tala grabbed the ends of her messy braids and yanked. Not hard enough to damage her scalp, but enough to feel the roots protest as she closed her eyes tightly.

Why can’t you just be quiet, Taldesa?