Prologue: Will
Will was a year older than Orym, but Orym was always so mature for his age. He remembered meeting the small, serious boy at summer camp just outside of Zephrah. Will was a junior counsellor and Orym was a senior camper. He was immediately drawn to Orym, and had a feeling Orym felt similarly. But he had to check himself, it was inappropriate for a counsellor to date a camper.
They stayed in touch though. Writing letters to each other from across the ocean. Will remembered the warmth in his heart when Orym wrote him to tell Will that he had been accepted as a counsellor for the next summer. He would be doing the later session though, so as not to miss his lacrosse season. Will has already signed up for the whole summer and couldn’t wait to see Orym again.
Not able to contain themselves, Will and Orym became camp boyfriends immediately during their first week back. Orym suggested doing the distance thing, but Will was skeptical. “I don’t want to tie you down. You should be out there, enjoying yourself, meeting people! We’ll always have this in the summer.”
They tried to be apart, but halfway through the year, Will couldn’t resist the sad poetic letters Orym kept writing him. He hopped on the first airship he could find, off to Marquet, and surprised Orym one day after school. They were inseparable after that. Will was able to complete his last year of high school remotely, and would just need to return to Zephrah for final exams. He was already accepted into several universities and chose Ascension’s Rise in Jrusar, to be near Orym.
Will watched Orym flourish as the captain of his high school lacrosse team. The boy he knew was becoming a man. Confident, kind, and talented. He knew Orym would go on to great things.
“Think I should come here next year?” Will recalled Orym asking him one night, wedged between his boyfriend and the wall of his little dorm room in Ascension’s Rise.
“Well, they aren’t really known for their sports here. Did you want to continue your lacrosse career? It seems very promising.” Will replied.
Orym blushed and it made Will want to be nearer, so he pulled the smaller man into a tight hug. “But playing junior next year will be a huge commitment, and you’ll be in second year. We won’t see each other as much.”
“We’ll still be together. And that new Jrusar team seems real promising.” Will replied against the top of Orym’s head.
Will got to see Orym get drafted to the Jrusar Screeching Bells. Then be made captain at the end of his first season. Even though Coach Pock O’Pea was dating Orym’s mom, no one doubted the merit in making Orym captain.
Then, Will developed a cough. He ignored it at first, but Orym and his mother, Alma eventually forced Will to see a doctor in the city. When Will wasn’t getting better and the Jrusar clinic wasn’t sure what to do, Orym accompanied Will back to Zephrah.
He recalled the day he found out that he had cancer. That he had, maybe a year to live. Well, he definitely wasn’t going back to university. He wanted to spend every waking moment with Orym and his family, his sisters and his parents. But he also knew that wouldn’t be fair to Orym. That man deserved only the best things in life, and Will’s heart broke when knew he’d be weighing him down more.
“I think we should stop.” Will was sitting in the living room across from Orym when he said it. “I don’t want to sacrifice our friendship, the good memories we’ve made together.”
“What? No. Will, there’s still time. Someone might find a cure.” Orym didn’t want to let go.
In the end, Will didn’t force a label on what him and Orym were. He let Orym believe what he wanted to believe, whatever would make things easier. But in the end, Will ran out of time.
“I’ll always love you Orym. But do one thing for me. I want you to live.” It was the last thing Will ever said to anyone.
Chapter 1: The Jewel of Marquet
Two years later – Present day
Orym is glad to be back in Marquet. Back traveling via the Bells’ old schoolbus. Coach Laudna was right, learning field lacrosse in Tal’Dorei was the perfect combination of rest and skills training that they needed. He felt invigorated and rearing to go for the second half of the regular season. It had been nice to visit Tal’Dorei, his first home. But the Bells were his home now. He hadn’t realized returning to Emon, seeing Keyleth and Will’s sisters, would bring up old scars he thought had healed.
When Imogen took that shot at him about getting back on the dating scene, Orym had responded truthfully. He wasn’t mad or offended at Imogen’s outburst. The reminder didn’t make him sad or remorseful. What Orym and Will had, it was beautiful. Much too short, but Orym will always cherish the time they had together. It was the type of love you can only have in your youth before the weight of time and expectation took over. He missed Will though. Always will miss him. And being in Tal’Dorei, surrounded by people from that life was an aching reminder that Will was gone.
But, Orym knows his friends look to him as their leader and captain. He is the voice of reason; the mature one. Orym is everyone’s most well-put-together friend, and he bears the responsibility ably. So when the Bells touch back down in Jrusar, he’s ready to get to work and gives his friends exactly 24 hours to decompress.
Chetney schedules an exhibition game against Swurargas, and Orym is relieved when he sees Coach Thull rolling the lines early. Both teams want to size each other up ahead of their official meeting in Ank’harel next weekend. But neither want to give anything away. Much to Orym’s dismay, Ashton and Ratanish decide to drop the gloves and throw some punches in the second period. Ashton’s ankle wasn’t fully recovered yet but they refused to sit the game out.
“You’re an adult Ashton, it’s ultimately your choice if you want to dress or not.” Laudna had told the stubborn player before the game. “Just know you only have yourself to blame if the injury is aggravated.”
Fortunately, the game wasn’t its typical roughness, and no one got hurt more than the usual bruises that come from the sport. The Bells came away with the win, barely.
After the game, Orym finds himself leisurely packing up. Taking his time and revelling in the particular quiet that an exhibition game brings to the arena. Chetney had opened up the arena to spectators, which is usually the best time for high schoolers and those on a tight budget to get some good quality lacrosse watching in. But exhibition games never fill up the seats like an official game.
Orym is driving himself home, alone, tonight, and he’s taking advantage of the empty arena to be by himself with his thoughts. He likes doing this sometimes, allowing himself time for introspection in a place so special to him. There is a lot to think about after their little break. Things will only get more challenging as they prepare for playoffs and jockey for the best spot. After he’s done a thorough scour of the dressing room and deemed it tidy enough to leave, Orym hoists his gear bag onto his shoulder.
It’s not quite the full heat of summer yet, but it’s a warm night tonight. Orym slowly pads towards his car, when he hears hushed voices.
“…he’s going to need you and the team soon.” A low feminine voice whispers.
“Are we trying to win playoffs still, or what?” Orym recognizes the second voice, is it Ratanish?
“Of course, we always aim to win. But the Call will also need to run security in a few other locations during the big game. How well we do in the rest of the season, will just determine which part of the plan you’ll be leading.” They definitely have authority over Ratanish, but Orym can’t pin down who they are.
“I wish you would be a little more forthright with this plan.” Ratanish sounds a little miffed.
“You know all you need to know, for now. Don’t worry, in time he’ll reveal everything.” The woman’s tone goes from patronizing to almost mystical.
Orym hears Ratanish sigh. “Ludinus this, Cerberus that. So many secrets.”
“Your job is to be big, strong, and do what you’re told. That’s what I pay you for. Do I not pay you enough? You want to find a new line of work?” The tone is authoritative again.
Orym senses he’s heard far more than he should, and takes advantage of the antagonizing turn of the conversation to sneak to his car. Once in the driver’s seat, he waits for another minute or two. He’s not sure why, but his heart is racing, his breathing laboured. Orym plugs his phone into the speaker of his car and calls Dorian as he starts the vehicle up.
Carefully but quickly spinning out of the parking lot, Orym turns the opposite way he should to go home. Just in case he’s being watched.
“Hello?” Dorian’s voice comes through Orym’s tinny car speakers.
“Hey Dorian, sorry to call you at this hour,” Orym replies.
“No problemo my friend. Everything okay?” Dorian starts. “Are you driving? Sounds like you’re in a car or something.”
“Yeah, but don’t worry, you’re on speaker. Hands-free!” Orym does a bad job of trying to lighten the mood. He’s feeling tense, and worried, and he knows it’s irrational.
“You sound a little tense, everything okay?” Dorian asks, though not sounding overly worried.
“Yeah, fine. I’m just leaving the arena, and it’s later than I realized, and you know how sometimes weird people are out at night?” Orym begins to ramble.
Dorian takes a few moments to reply. “Did you want to come over? I’ll be up playing music for another hour or two if you need somewhere to unwind.”
Orym thinks about it. He wants nothing more than to hang out with Dorian tonight. But the moment he admits that to himself, he feels guilty. Dorian is so young, full of hope, and wonderful. Orym is old and boring, with baggage to boot. “I don’t want to take up your quality music-making time.”
“Nonsense! You only enhance it.” Orym can hear some gentle strumming coming through the car speakers. “Oh! and I haven’t even shown you my latest song that you inspired!”
Orym smiles at that but doesn’t agree to come. Not yet. He needs to control himself, to stay focused. By now he’s turned back towards his house, which is also the right direction for Dorian’s if he ends up going there. He does need to relax a bit, and understand what he overheard.
“Orrryyyym.” Dorian sings through the line, breaking his thoughts. “No pressure, if you need to be by yourself tonight. But! the invite is open, you know I always love an audience.”
Sighing, Orym finds his autopilot driving him towards his friend’s home. He’s shaken after the close encounter with Ratanish and, whoever that other person was. Maybe he should have tried to see who they were? “Fine. I’m pretty close actually, I’ll see you soon.”
“Great!” Dorian is enthusiastic, a different instrument now can be heard through the phone.
Orym doesn’t hang up right away. “Thanks, Dorian.”
“Of course! Anytime.”
A few hard practices later, the Bells find themselves piling into the old school bus for the long road trip to Ank’harel. They’ll be there for just over a week, playing two regular season games each against the Ank’harel Desert, Swurargas Peaks, and Yios Lakers.
“What do you think the new player will be like?” Dorian brings Orym out of his thoughts and into the present. The bus bumps along the road as Chetney swears, shaking his fist at an oncoming driver.
Laudna had told them this morning, after boarding the bus, that a new player would be meeting them in the city. Braius had played in Wildemount last year. After spending the first half of the season riding the bench, he apparently was looking to change things up in the Marquet league. It was rare, but not unheard of for players to switch leagues partway through a season, since the seasons are so short. A little worried about it changing the good team dynamics the Bells have, Orym hopes this guy can fit in quickly.
“I don’t know.” Orym pulls out his phone and taps the new player’s name into his search engine. Braius Doomseed. Now that’s a name.
“He certainly looks good.” Dorian comments, looking over Orym’s shoulder.
The man is Orym’s age but looks like he’s ten years his senior. While Orym still has trouble growing a moustache, Braius has a full majestic beard in his profile picture. Suddenly Orym feels a little self-conscious.
“Scroll down, I want to see his stats.” Dorian prompts.
They spend longer than they should going through the boy’s player profile and history. Ashton and Fearne, who are sitting behind Orym and Dorian, lean over the bench seat and get into it too. Just based on the stats, and the couple of news articles they find, Braius seems to be a well-rounded player.
“Hi, I’m Braius.” The tall man looks at each of the Bells in the eye, for an uncomfortably long span of time. He’s smiling, but Orym can see an air of nervousness about him. It’s surprising to see the nerves on such a tall, muscular, attractive man. But Orym acknowledges that everyone is human.
Once they’re all settled into hotel rooms, they go through the introductions. Laudna has brought her box of knick-knacks out, and they begin to play the icebreaker game again.
Braius holds up a thin paintbrush. “I actually love to paint?” He smiles awkwardly and Orym isn’t sure if he’s telling the truth or not. Which is odd, he can almost always tell when someone is lying. Years of living with and around Fearne will help with that.
After the icebreaker, Chetney takes them all to his favourite lunch spot. “I always come here when I visit Ank’harel!”
Orym smiles, remembering the first time Chetney took him and his mom here. They went to a steakhouse, Chetney was still trying to impress them. But the best meal they had was at the little hole-in-the-wall place, run by an older couple who had lived in Ank’harel their entire lives. “I hope you called ahead.” Orym teases his stepdad and assistant coach.
“Don’t you worry sonny boy. They’re ready to roll out the red carpet!”
After a filling lunch of delicious homestyle cooking, FCG takes the Bells for a tour of the city. Many of the younger players have never visited Ank’harel before.
“…and here is a great little spot for swimming,” FCG explains as they pass through the River District.
It’s more of a human-constructed canal, funnelling water from the oasis in the middle of the city. But Orym can see the appeal, he supposes it gets dusty here, similar to Bassuras.
Continuing with the tour, FCG eventually leads the team to the upper city and the Cerulean Palace.
“Now, I don’t want to brag…” Chetney begins to brag. “But I once carved a throne for J’mon Sa Ord.”
“Who?” Dorian asks.
“J’mon Sa Ord is the mayor of Ank’Harel.” Orym explains. “She’s been the city’s mayor for over a decade. The people love her here.”
“She’s kind of a big deal.” Chetney chimes in.
“Wow.” Dorian’s eyes widen.
“Shall we see if she wants to see ya?” FCG asks, shuffling up the palace steps.
Miraculously, the mayor remembers the little artisan C-Pop, and welcomes the team into her greeting hall. The pieces of art and history on display are awe-inspiring, and Orym and Ashton spend a good deal of time checking out each piece as J’mon addresses them all.
“Welcome to the grand city of Ank’harel, Screeching Bells.” Her voice is silky smooth and commanding all at once. “I hope you have a pleasant stay in my city, and I wish you good fortune against your foes. Though, of course, I will be cheering for the Desert this week.”
The Ank’harel Desert are ranked below the Bells, but that doesn’t mean Orym expects the games to be easy. They’ll have to fight for their points alright.
Some small talk is made, and as FCG begins to gather everyone for their next stop, Orym feels a presence at his side.
The mayor is only about Orym’s height, her long dark hair is partially tied back, and her plain clothes disguise how stylish they really are. Her eyes are an otherwordly almost-gold, flecked with green. It’s these piercing eyes that stare into Orym’s soul as she addresses him.
“A little birdie told me you and your friends are particularly good at rooting out rats.” J’mon’s face is impassive.
Orym’s eyes widen slightly and he gulps, intimidated. Not sure what the mayor is getting at, he replies. “Really? Do you have a rat problem?”
“You could say that…” J’mon looks around, seemingly satisfied she continues. “The Lord and Lady of Whitestone have put in a good word for you.”
Relaxing slightly, Orym nods. He knows Vex was clued into their ‘hero work’ in Emon, this must be what J’mon is referring to.
“Well then, how would you and your friends like to make a little extra coin while you’re here?” J’mon asks casually. “I know you’re busy with the league games, and no I’m not trying to sabotage your play. But something has been, haunting -for lack of a better word- the palace grounds.”
“And you want us to investigate?” Orym is intrigued.
“My staff is quite overworked at the moment, and this nuisance has been spooking some of them, to be honest.” J’mon pulls a long brass key from her pocket. “But for some outsiders just passing through… it’s not often you get free reign to wander an ancient castle.”
That has Orym convinced, but he knows he’ll need more to convince his friends. “How much did you say is on offer?”
Chapter 2: Glimpse of a Ghost
“You single?” The new player leans down, towards Orym. He looks expectantly at the other man.
Caught off guard, Orym replies. “Uh, you’re huge, man.”
“Oh, I know.” Braius winks at Orym.
Fortunately, Imogen catches back up with the group at that moment. “Hey, I got the schedule from Chet. Today’s practice isn’t for another couple of hours. Then it’s lunch, then downtime, until the first game against Yios tonight. We’ll be playing at the same time as Ank’harel and Swurargas go at it, but FCG said they’ll be able to sneak some peaks under the guise of supporting the arena’s first aid staff.”
When no one replies right away, Imogen pauses to look at her teammates. Orym, Fearne, Ashton, Dorian, and Braius all exchange looks.
“Did I miss something?” Imogen’s eyes narrow and fall on Orym.
“No-”
“Yes-“
Orym and Ashton blurt out at the same time.
Chuckling, Fearne responds. “Braius was just asking Orym about his dating life.”
Orym feels his face grow warm, and is then surprised by Imogen’s response. “Quit giving Orym a hard time!”
The others step back in surprise as well. “Woah hey, we weren’t!” Ashton steps in. “Where did that come from? Actually, no. Nevermind. Nevermind!”
“So what you’re saying, Imogen…” Orym takes the opportunity to change the subject and get them all back on track. “Is we should check out the palace now, before practice.”
“Yeah, that.” Imogen nods, and the rest agree.
The mayor’s palace is close to their hotel, and the group begins walking over.
Orym hears Braius lower his voice to Dorian. “So I take it that’s… Complicated?”
“I guess you could say that?” Dorian responds.
Orym pretends he doesn’t overhear the conversation. Pretends he doesn’t know Braius is talking about him. To Dorian, of all people, about his ‘availability’ on the dating scene.
“Are you single?” Braius asks Dorian.
Dorian just laughs, slapping Braius on the shoulder. “You really have a one-track mind, don’t you, my friend?”
Sure enough, the large brass key provided to them by J’mon Sa Ord, gets them into almost every room they come across. They start in the basement “because the basement is where the creepy shit happens”, according to Ashton. It’s full of boxes of seasonal knick-knacks, cobwebs, and old art.
“Looks like someone’s been through the linens recently,” Orym notes as he and Dorian search the rooms methodically.
Dorian doesn’t respond right away. Then, starts with. “Thank you, by the way.”
Orym stops the investigation for a moment, “for…?”
“For letting me come along this time.” Dorian’s one finger plays with his hair. “It’s been a bit of an adjustment, being in the ‘big leagues’ this year, and…”
Orym waits patiently for Dorian to finish his thought.
“Thank you. For being so welcoming.” Dorian ends his sentence flatly.
“Of course.” Orym’s reply is quiet but heartfelt. “But if these extracurriculars ever feel like too much, you know we’re just messing around. You don’t need to come with us if you’re not comfortable.”
“Orym,” Dorian stops fidgeting and looks down at Orym squarely. “If you’re here, I’m comfortable.”
Orym feels uncontrollably warm all of a sudden. It’s odd. It’s a feeling he used to get all the time, but now it’s been a few years. But they have a job to do, so he shoves down the feeling and subsequent questions that are bubbling up. Pushes them deep down, where he can forget about them. He surveys this corner of the room, looking for anything that doesn’t quite match up.
He’s just about to pull Dorian over and suggest catching up with the others, as it seems like no one’s found anything suspicious today. When a crash sounds from the next room over.
Braius comes running out, metaphorical tail between his legs. His face is pale and slicked with sweat.
“G- g- ghost!” The big man squeaks.
“Ghost?!” Dorian charges past Braius and into the room, brandishing a lamp he’s picked up.
Orym follows closely behind. A closet door creaks, moving slightly as if there’s a breeze, but the air is still. Dorian eagerly jumps, pulling the closet door open in one quick movement.
Nothing is there, save cleaning supplies, a mop and a bucket, some chemicals and piles of rags; an old sheet.
“Scared of a ratty blanket, Braius?” Dorian jokes.
But Braius hasn’t fully recovered yet. “No, I swear!” He stammers. “What I saw was no ‘old blanket’!”
Orym believes him. He’s good at sensing a lie, and Braius seems to be telling the truth. “We believe you. Right Dorian?” He gives Dorian a firm look.
“Of course. I’m just joking Braius. Lighten up!” Dorian flashes an apologetic grin.
When they all gather up again, Fearne and Ashton share that a few things seem to have been ‘misplaced’.
“Which is Fearne-speak for stolen,” Ashton confirms.
“Hey, it takes a thief to know a thief.” She shrugs in reply.
“Where did you slink off to?” Imogen asks Braius, suspiciously.
“Well, when you said you didn’t know if you were single or not, I figured that was maybe a can of worms I shouldn’t get into.” Braius seemed to have recovered from the ghostly spook from earlier.
“Imogen doesn’t know if she’s single or not?” Ashton stops walking to gawk at their friend.
“Braius, that’s not what I- quit changing the subject!” Imogen flusters.
“Now who’s changing the subject?” Fearne joins in, wiggling her eyebrows and focusing on Imogen.
Orym is a little curious, but he knows not to push. And Imogen saved him earlier from a similar situation. “Was that before, or after you saw the ghost, Braius?”
“Ghost!?” Ashton and Fearne exclaim simultaneously.
Imogen shoots Orym a look of thank you, as the conversation rapidly turns to Braius’ ghost sighting.
“It was terrifying,” Braius explains. “Pale, white, almost translucent. It brushed my arm, but felt like it was going right through it.” He shudders, unable to continue.
“We were in one of the empty basement rooms.” Dorian continues. “But no idea where it went.”
The afternoon flies by, and before he knows it Orym is getting all set for his pre-game routine. He’s gotten used to this time by himself, as Imogen now spends her pre-game time working through strategy with Coach Laudna. So he’s surprised when he finds the wall spot he had scouted out earlier already taken.
“Sorry, I hope you don’t mind?” Braius stops tossing the ball against the wall for a moment.
“Not at all,” Orym replies. There’s room for both of them.
He’s just settling into a rhythm when he hears Braius sigh. Looking over, Orym sees some worry lines on the young man’s face. “You okay there, big guy?”
“I think your tall friend likes me.” Braius shrugs.
“Which one, Fearne?” Orym ventures a guess.
“Yes, the one with the green hair.” Braius nods, seemingly to himself as much as to Orym.
Orym considers his words carefully, it’s possible… “Well, I mean she likes most people, but sure.”
“I mean, she’s been giving me the eyes.” Braius pauses his wall-ball to look seriously at Orym.
“Oh yeah?” Orym doesn’t really care for Fearne’s love life. He knows it’s more complicated than his own, and that he’ll always have snuggling privileges. He also isn’t sure this is the right pre-game conversation to be having.
“But then there’s that Ashton fellow.” Braius continues.
“Uh huh.” Orym resumes tossing the ball against the wall. 99, 100…
“What’s their type?”
Seriously, this dude does have a one-track mind. “Why don’t you ask them?”
It’s probably the oddest conversation he’s ever had with a teammate. And that says a lot growing up with Ashton and Fearne.
“Are they, a thing?” Braius asks.
“Who, Ash and Fearne?” Orym isn’t actually sure what constitutes ‘a thing’ for his best friend and his oldest friend. “Again, you probably need to ask them if you want to know that badly.”
Braius seems to consider this a moment. “I’m sorry Orym, I’m probably distracting you from your pre-game.”
“I mean, yeah, but hey.” Orym shrugs, letting a little sigh escape. “We’re teammates now, and teammates look after one another.”
Braius looks at him, and Orym can’t quite place the expression. It’s not confusion, but it seems awfully close.
“But also, I do want to finish my warm-up before the team one starts,” Orym admits.
The Yios Lakers are on the smaller side, but their average player height is still much taller than Orym. However, he finds himself matching against one of the few players his size whenever he’s out on defence. The first thing he realizes about playing with Braius is just how much of a tank that guy is. Sure he’s big, but it takes at least two defenders together to slow him down.
“It’ll be exciting seeing him matched up against Ratty.” Ashton chimes in on one rare bench shift with Orym.
Nodding in agreement, Orym can’t help himself. “Hey, what’s the deal with you and Fearne these days.”
Ashton looks to Orym, slight surprise written on their face. “No need to put a label on that, dude.”
And then Laudna’s calling him back out there for the breakout.
They beat the Lakers handedly by five goals. It’s not even one of Dariax’s strongest games.
“It’s a marathon though, not a sprint!” Laudna warns them as they celebrate the night’s win. “Though, you are sprinting almost all of the time…” she trails off muttering something to herself about hypocrisy and burnout.
Orym looks around at his friends and feels something strangely close to jealousy when he sees Braius and Dorian laughing over something on Dorian’s phone. He wants to go over and join them, but there it is again… that pull. That feeling of guilt. He just needs to let them have a good time, even if he’s not part of it. Sighing, he quietly excuses himself back to his hotel room.
He’s surprised when he sees Ashton’s shoes by the door. The TV is playing on mute, flashing some Tal’Dorei Hockey League highlights. “Ash?”
Moving into the room, Orym finds his friend perched on the end of their bed, eyes glued to their phone, noise-cancelling headphones on. As Orym intentionally makes a commotion entering the room, Ashton finally perks up.
“Oh hey!” Ashton shouts, then realizing they’re shouting, slides the headset off and places it on the bed beside him. “Sorry, hey. Want to see something crazy?”
Being summoned to Ashton’s side, Orym perches and peers over their shoulder. Ashton scrolls through message notifications.
<Ratty: everyone needs to be ready when we get back from this trip>
<Rocky: can you send the list of supplies?>
<Ratty: it’s only a few weeks to playoffs, then only a couple more to the championship. Boss says we will be there regardless of our placement>
<Rake: how does that work?>
<Ratty: @Rocky uniforms, masks, non-metal weapons, and that stupid device those stupid Ruidiusborns use>
<Mick: ya will we be playing in the championship regardless?>
“This has been going on for a while now. I don’t think I’m supposed to be seeing this.” Ashton acknowledges. “I think they’re chatting in the wrong group message and they haven’t realized it yet.”
“‘Non-metal weapons’? Is this normal for Paragon’s Call banter? or is this more sketchy than usual?” Orym hasn’t been privy to most of Ashton’s dealings with the Call.
“Nah, this is definitely more sketchy than usual. Think I should just pretend I didn’t see any of it?” Ashton seems to genuinely want Orym’s opinion on this matter. “I haven’t technically opened the thread.”
“Maybe leave it unread. And screenshot the previews for good measure…” Orym weighs his options. Should he let Ashton in on what he overheard Ratanish say the other night? He doesn’t want to risk his friend getting into any more trouble with the Call.
Chapter 3: Two Minutes and a Game
The morning’s game against the Ank’harel Desert goes well. The host team has definitely improved since the early season when the Bells played them last. However, they haven’t changed their tactics at all. The Bells’ offence makes quick work of the Desert’s zone defence. Even though Ank’harel doesn’t have any weak spots, the Bells eventually make their own holes, creating ample scoring opportunities. All the extra stickwork that Ashton and Morrighan have been practicing is clear. They’re able to capitalize more and more when they’re close to the net. Imogen, Opal, and Fearne don’t get as many scoring opportunities, but they’re devastating when they get their shots off.
The Bells wind up beating the Desert by four goals. Orym congratulates his teammates, proudly wrapping them in hugs as they join Dariax at the crease after the final buzzer rings.
“Great game Bells!” He shouts. Someone taps his butt and he turns quickly, seeing Braius wink at him before the big man turns to high-five Ashton.
They shake hands with the Desert and file off the floor. Orym helps the coaches collect everything out of the player’s bench before heading into the dressing room for a post-game debrief. The roar of the crowd has died down a bit, but many fans take their time leaving the stands. Orym picks up bits and pieces of conversation as he puts all the water bottles back into the holders. There’s mention of the ‘ghost’ on the Mayor’s estate. Orym slows his cleanup to listen in longer, eager to pick up any more intel.
As he walks through the tunnel, Orym glances up. He catches a glint of gold; the Mayor’s eyes lock on his. She holds his gaze for a knowing moment, then turns back to her conversation.
“Excellent work, this morning.” Laudna congratulates them. “Yes, you scored more goals this time playing the Desert. The motion offense is really coming into its own. But what truly impressed me, is how consistent our defense is shaping up to be.” She claps her hands together, clearly trying to tamp down her pride and excitement.
“Ain’t that the truth!” Chetney pipes up. “They say the best offence wins games. But the best DEFence wins championships!”
Orym joins the hoots and hollers as his teammates cheer and bang their sticks on the benches in a ruckus.
Unlike Ank’harel, the Swurargas Peaks are a completely different team since the Bells played them last. Orym steals a glance at Coach Thull in between line changes and he is shocked. Thull’s eyes are almost sunken in, surrounded by dark purple circles. It looks like they haven’t slept properly in weeks. Even though it’s only been a week since Orym saw them last. The concentrated, aggressive expression on Thull’s face is especially intimidating with their hollowed-out cheeks.
Orym doesn’t notice Thull shouting at the players like last time. Instead, he sees them lean over and whisper instructions to choice players, allowing the Peak’s offence and defence coaches to carry out most of the in-game coaching.
The Bells easily win the first period, and double their lead in the second. FCG calls out to them, reminding the Bells to keep up their tight defensive work. Their voice barely cuts through the rest of the rabble on the floor. Partway through the period, Orym is out on a shift with Braius and Fearne. He cuts towards the net, providing Fearne with an opportunity at an open shot. But before she can release her cannon, Ratanish jumps from his check to crank Fearne from behind. She’s laid out on the floor, in clear pain. Orym is quick to recover the ball and the referee blows down the play with the injured player on the floor.
After waving FCG over to help out Fearne, Orym jogs over to talk to the ref about the call on the play. While he’s getting an explanation though, he senses a shift in the arena’s demeanor. Turning, Orym immediately sees what has captured the crowd’s attention. Ashton is squaring off against Ratanish. Gloves on the floor, helmets kicked aside. The two players circle each other. A few feints and trash-talk are exchanged.
“Come on Ratty, you can hit a girl, you can hit me.” Ashton taunts.
Ratanish sneers and spits on the floor in Asthon’s direction. “I didn’t realize you were so keen to get your ass kicked again.”
“You know me. I’m always game for a good ass whooping.” Ashton turns the knuckles on their left hand towards Ratanish, opens their palm, and beckons Ratanish towards them. “Come on…”
Ratanish takes the time to roll up his jersey sleeves before launching himself at Ashton. Betting on it, Ashton dodges the punch and grabs Ratty’s jersey with their left hand.
Orym watches from beside the main referee. He leans on his stick in tense anticipation as the fight progresses. He wasn’t there but got the rundown from Fearne on how Ashton had been beaten to near unconsciousness the last time these two tumbled. He keeps his face expressionless as he hopes his friend fairs much better this time.
Ashton is swinging right haymakers, even connecting on one or two. Ratanish bends his head down to avoid taking damage to his jaw or face. He has Ashton’s jersey balled up in his left hand and attempts a jab to throw his opponent off. But Ashton is in full rage mode and focused on their target.
“You take a dirty shot at my teammate, and I’m gonna make sure you pay.” Ashton grunts. “You piece of shit.”
Ratanish attempts to shove Ashton away, but Ashton is like dirt on a white shirt and keeps wildly throwing punches at the Peaks’ captain. Connecting a few more, Ratanish finally finds his proper footing and begins to wail back against Ashton.
Orym senses movement at his side and the referee must have had enough and/or sensed a good moment to step in. They take the opportunity as soon as Ratty and Ashton slow down. The refs bear hug the adrenaline-spiked players to stop the fight.
The crowd is going wild, with a few boos scattered throughout the arena, clearly directed at the referees for ‘breaking up the fun’. Orym rolls his eyes internally, he can’t stand the types of fans who watch the sport just for the fighting.
Both Ashton and Ratanish are escorted to their respective penalty boxes. Shouting obscenities at each other about the other’s mother. The refs convene for a minute before one of them goes to the Peaks’ penalty box to drag Ratanish off the floor completely. He’s done for the game. The crowd again is a mix of loud cheers and boos. Ashton stands up and bangs on the plexiglass, taunting Ratanish more. “Yeah run! Get out of here, you asshole!”
The rest of the game doesn’t get much better. The rest of the Peaks, some of them are new faces, carry on from where their captain left off. Orym finds himself giving a serious speech at the second intermission. Urging his teammates to keep their heads up.
“I normally never say this, because in lacrosse, no lead is safe. But, I do think we have this win in the bag. So, the top priority is now getting out of this game in one piece.” Orym stops to meet Laudna’s gaze. After she returns his serious look with an equally serious nod, he continues. “No more cuts to the net. No more chasing on defense. We still fight on the boards for loose balls, but…” Looking at Laudna, she nods again. “Leave the corner loose balls to them. Let them pick it up and then check them. No need to risk getting cranked head-first into the end boards.” His teammates nod solemnly.
It feels like a miracle when the final buzzer goes. Orym catches a look shared between his coach and the head coach of the Swurargas Peaks. Laudna’s dark eyes look black with hatred and Otohan smirks back. A shiver runs up Orym’s spine.
Maybe it’s to take everyone’s mind off the bloodbath they just played. Or maybe FCG had always planned a pizza party in one of the hotel’s party rooms. Either way, Orym is thankful for their little trainer as they hobble along to a comfortable chair next to Chetney.
Orym smiles to himself when he sees his friend, Imogen, next to Laudna. They started the evening breaking down past two games. Orym can’t read lips, but he’s pretty good at reading body language, and as he watches the two women chat he’s fairly confident they aren’t talking shop anymore. It warms his heart to see Imogen finally have a friend and mentor, so grounding, like Laudna.
Ashton, at first, complained about the lack of beer at the dinner. But Orym had reminded them that they still had three more games to play over the next few days. Even though, technically, today was a ‘night off’ (tomorrow they only have a practice in the morning) Laudna still expects them to stay dry all week. Orym thinks Ash seems to have cooled off now, though. His back to Orym, eating what’s probably his fourth or fifth slice of pizza, they sit slouched between Fearne and Braius. Fearne seems in the middle of a story, the laughter carries toward Orym.
He almost walks over to them, when he hears someone clear their throat behind him. Orym knows who it is right away. Turning, he looks up and smiles, his eyes meeting the bright blue ones of Dorian Storm.
“Hey.” Orym starts. They had chatted briefly after the game. Orym had been a little worried about the physicality of the game negatively affecting Dorian. But Dorian said he was fine. Psyched up even.
“Hi,” Dorian replies.
A couple of seconds go by, but Orym feels like it’s much longer than that. They both try to break the silence simultaneously. “What are-“
“Looks like-” Dorian starts. “Sorry, you go.”
“No, you.” Orym insists, suddenly worrying he was just about to put his foot in his mouth.
“Um.” Dorian shifts slightly. “Where did you get the ham and pineapple? I didn’t notice it anywhere.”
Orym deflates slightly at the conversation topic, but he also feels a bit relieved. “Oh um. Over there.” He points towards the table Ashton, Fearne, and Braius have set up at.
“Care to accompany me?” Dorian jokes, holding out his arm.
Orym laughs, hoping it sounds less awkward than he feels. He gives Dorian a soft punch to the arm and matches the other man’s steps toward the ham and pineapple pizza.
Chapter 4: Sweet Dreams
Orym is glad for the mid-week breather. Games are harder on the body than practices, even though practices are a harder workout. There’s more you can control in practice, unlike in games. Laudna has two practices scheduled today, they’re both light but she wants everyone in full equipment. Orym has decided they can investigate the castle again in between practices.
Laudna splits them into two groups in the morning. He notices Dorian sandwiched between Braius and Dariax as Chetney walks them through a shooting drill. Sighing to himself, Orym turns to Laudna who’s setting Fearne and Ashton up for a faceoff drill. He helps close off the circle around his two teammates and gets into a battle-ready stance. Fearne and Ashton will go against each other for possession of the ball before attempting to break out of the circle.
Showered, changed, and fed, Orym and his friends find themselves back in J’mon Sa Ord’s castle. He’s paired with Imogen this time, after feeling bad about forcing her with Braius again. Dorian and Braius have been getting along well, and even if Orym is a little jealous… it’s not fair to act on that jealousy.
“I can’t see shit in here Orym,” Imogen whispers, clumsily navigating the empty hallways with her cell phone light out in front.
“Me neither,” Orym admits. “I hope Fearne and Ash are having more luck interviewing the guards.” He also hopes they don’t try any funny business. That would be a one-way ticket to J’mon’s bad book. He has a sneaking suspicion that’s the last place he and the Bells want to be.
Orym pauses at a door Imogen passed by. Unlike the rest of this floor, this room looks like it’s been used more recently. He enters the room slowly, and cautiously. There’s some equipment lying around. An old tape recorder and some sketches lie next to a crumpled tablecloth. A length of rope. It’s suspicious, but Orym doesn’t know what else to make of it. He hears a kerfuffle in the hallway, and quickly jogs out to check on Imogen.
“Jeez Braius, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you weren’t trying to help this investigation at all!” He hears Imogen hiss at the end of the hall.
Orym pops his head out of the room to see Braius and Dorian at the far end of the hall. They both look sheepish as Imogen reprimands them quietly. Orym steps out and walks over, arms crossed and a neutral expression on his face.
“Find anything?” He asks all three, slowly.
“No.” Imogen pouts as she gestures to Braius. “And no thanks to this clown.”
“We’re sorry, Imogen.” Dorian laments.
“I don’t blame you.” Imogen’s tone softens towards Dorian. “We all know whose idea it was to try and spook me like that.” Her eyes narrow at Braius.
“I’m sorry! And you’re right, it was my idea, Dorian was just along for the ride.” Braius acknowledges. “We’re just working so hard here, and I thought we may as well have a tiny bit of fun?”
Orym catches Imogen huff and roll her eyes.
“There was something a bit off in a room back there.” Orym motions behind him. “But nothing incriminating. Maybe we can come back here after our next practice and try again. I’m hoping Fearne and Ashton learned more from the interviews.”
“Yeah,” Dorian frowns. “Me too. We’ve spent hours sneaking around this place and haven’t come across any ghost or ghoul or anything.”
With heavy hearts, they exit to meet Fearne and Ashton out front of the castle.
//
“So… we got a couple of leads,” Ashton explains. “But both of them involve staking out here overnight…”
Hmm… that’s problematic. Coach won’t go for it. Orym catches Imogen’s eye, and knows she’s thinking the same thing.
They throw themself into practice and, for the hour, Orym forgets he has any other obligation. He runs a few trick plays with Dorian and Fearne. He laughs at Chetney’s dad jokes and lets FCG play with the pocket of his spare stick.
As practice ends, he isn’t any closer to figuring out a way to stake out the castle without jeopardizing their play. The reason they came here, to begin with. He accepts a chill night at the hotel and some lighthearted dice games with the coaching staff instead.
//
The next day they play the Peaks again. Orym is surprised to see a short bench.
“Apparently Paragon’s Call was short-staffed for a project, and a few of the players were called in,” Ashton explains.
“In the middle of a tournament week?” Orym asks incredulously.
Ashton shrugs. “I guess winning these games ain’t their priority.”
They can say that again. The Bells wipe the floor with them. The Peaks aren’t so formidable without Ratanish and a few of the other senior players. The Bells still have to watch their backs, but fortunately, the game doesn’t have the same level of nastiness as the last bout.
As both teams shake hands and walk off the floor at the end of the game, Orym notices the head coaches exchange a few words. He can’t read lips, but he can tell that whatever Thull said to Laudna, it cut deep. His coach seems rattled, enough to quietly pass the post-game speech duties off to Chetney.
//
Back in their room for the night, Orym asks Ashton. “Did you end up mentioning those texts to anyone else?”
“Just Fearne.” Ashton replies. “Why?”
“I don’t have a good feeling about the Peaks, or the Call.” Orym admits.
“Me neither. Bunch of douchebags.” Ashton shoves his phone into the pocket of his ripped jeans. “But hey, not our problem, right?”
Orym thinks back to the look on Laudna’s face after Otahan had said… whatever they had said. “I guess not…”
“We’re not staking out tonight, right?” Ashton asks suddenly.
“Nah, I think we should wait until our last night after the games are done. Why?” Orym replies.
“Great plan, Captain!” Ashton gives a mock salute. “Then, Fearne and I are going to do some light reading on the Gau Drashari. Want to join us?” Ashton stands, room key in hand at the door.
“Nah, you go ahead.” Orym isn’t sure if Imogen will be there, but if she’s not – he thinks he should give his two friends some time alone. “I have a lot of thoughts circling around my head right now, and probably won’t be much help tonight.”
“Suit yourself!” Ashton clambers out of the room.
//
He spends the time on his own going over the new strings FCG put on his practice stick. I wonder if I should start properly breaking this in ahead of playoffs. He thinks to himself. It’ll be just long enough to get a nice pocket in time for playoff games to start. Admiring FCG’s craftmanship, he’s interrupted by what sounds like a knock on the door. But it’s so quiet he almost doesn’t catch it.
Tentatively getting up from his bed, Orym walks over to the door, stick in hand. Standing on his tiptoes, he looks up into the peephole. He’s surprised to see ombre black to blue hair. It’s a bit late for a social visit, so right away Orym’s on edge. He opens the door though. “Dorian?”
“You’re awake.” Dorian turns to face Orym. His eyes shift back and forth.
“Uh yeah,” Orym replies, not noticing anyone else with him. “Everything okay?”
Dorian shifts from one foot to the other.
“Want to come in?” Orym takes a step back, leaving Dorian a wide berth to enter his hotel room.
The younger but larger man inches in, past Orym, and stands awkwardly in the center of the room. Orym allows the door to close shut and sits on the edge of his bed. He waits for Dorian to say something.
“May I sit down?” Dorian’s foot nudges at, what could be, an invisible dust mite on the ground.
Orym nods and pats the bed beside him.
“You’ve felt a little distant lately.” Dorian ventures. “You okay?”
He can’t bring his gaze up to meet Dorian’s eyes, so he looks at his feet instead. “Sure. You know, just a lot going on. The usual.”
Orym feels the balance on the bed change, as Dorian sits down beside him. He holds his breath as he prevents his body from dipping towards his friend. A few moments go by in silence.
“You know, I’m only here because of you, right?” Dorian speaks softly like he’s telling Orym something sacred, only for him.
“That’s not true… You’re here because you’re a solid player, and you deserve to be here.” Orym counters, eyes trailing up from his own feet over to Dorian’s knees.
Dorian chuckles. “I… that’s not what I mean. I could have joined Cyrus’ team, you know? They called me up at the end of last season.”
Orym’s gaze continues up. Something about Dorian’s musical voice draws him to look up into his face.
“I wanted to be a Screeching Bell, because you’re a Screeching Bell, Orym.” Dorian smiles as his eyes meet Orym’s, he gives the captain a gentle knee-to-knee bump.
“Yeah?” Orym returns the smile, nervously.
Dorian nods.
Orym feels a weight on his chest, like something is painfully bursting to get out. “I like you.” He exclaims, suddenly feeling ten times lighter.
Dorian’s eyes widen, then soften to something sweet and peaceful. “I like you too. I think you might be the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”
He must be dreaming. Because only in his wildest of them is Dorian holding him like this. His head tucked under the taller man’s chin; his back warmed by Dorian’s broad chest. A strong arm wrapped around his own chest, as the other one plays with a lock of hair by his ear.
For the first time in a long time, Orym doesn’t miss being sandwiched between Fearne and Ashton as they all sleep.
Chapter 5: Bump in the Night
The next morning, Orym is surprised to see a glint of sun coming through his window as he wakes. He can’t remember the last time he slept in past sunrise. He rolls onto his back, meeting no resistance as he stretches across the double bed. He has to tell himself he’s not disappointed.
The sound of the toilet being flushed interrupts Orym’s thoughts, and Ashton walks out of the bathroom. Maybe it was all just a dream… Orym shakes his head. Rubbing a hand through his sleep-mussed mop, he blinks at Ashton. “Good morning.”
“And a good morning to you, Romeo.” Ashton grins.
Orym feels his neck and cheeks heat up. Unsure of what to say. Maybe it wasn’t just a dream then?
“I may have spooked your boy blue when I snuck back in last night.” Ashton shrugs. “Undoubtedly he was worried about being caught in the wrong place by Coach, so I assume he also snuck back into his room.”
Nodding, Orym continues to struggle to find his voice.
“By the looks of it, you finally got to do something to relax! I’m proud of ya.” Ashton holds out a fist for Orym to bump.
He bumps fists back on auto-pilot, before hesitating. “It’s not like- we didn’t- “
“Yeah, yeah. I know you’re not one to kiss and tell.” Ashton teases.
Orym needs to get moving, to shake away any and all unhelpful thoughts. So he starts his morning routine, albeit a little later than usual. He’s about halfway through a set of pushups when he hears his phone ping. Pausing for a moment, his curiosity gets the better of him, and Orym stands up to retrieve the phone from the bedside table.
<Dorian: good morning! Hope you slept well :)>
<Dorian: sorry for leaving early>
<Dorian: breakfast?>
Orym chuckles to himself and feels the little tightness in his chest dissipate. And not because he stopped doing pushups.
<Dorian: sorry for all the txts…>
<Orym: ya, breakfast sounds great :)>
//
They navigate to a quiet little mom-and-pop style breakfast joint. A recommendation from Chetney. It’s perfect. So much so, that Orym doesn’t want to break the spell by bringing up last night. Whatever it meant. What it means? Instead, they talk about the upcoming game and the mysterious going-ons at J’mon’s castle.
//
“We should go tonight,” Ashton whispers to Orym as they get ready in the dressing room for their game against the Yios Lakers.
Orym continues to tie up his shoe but looks at Ashton sideways.
Ashton leans in towards Orym, but faces straight ahead. “Just you and me, keep the others out of it.” Their mouth barely moves as they say this.
A whisper in response, Orym breathes out, “Okay.” He agrees with Ashton. It’s not worth getting anyone else in trouble with the coach. He would take responsibility, as captain, either way. And since this was Ashton’s idea, and Ashton’s intel, he knows his friend is going whether Orym agrees to the plan or not.
Attempting to get his head in the game, and not think about the million and one distractions Orym now has, he finishes tying his shoes. He hops up, pulls his gloves on and grabs his stick. Orym selects a ball from the ball bag and goes to find a nice wall to toss it against.
//
The game is fast-paced. The Lakers seem to have found a new speed, likely building on the momentum these multi-day, tournament-style, league weeks bring. Orym doesn’t think too hard about it. The adrenaline is intoxicating. He allows himself to get lost in the dance that is a lacrosse game. Twisting and turning away from checks, as he cradles the ball up the floor. Throwing his hips in the way of his opponents as he battles along the boards for a loose ball. On defence, he positions himself high on the dotted D-line, poised to pick off any lazy Lakers’ passes.
The game goes on in a blur of sweat and new bruises on top of old ones. This is what Orym was made for. The combat of a game. He falls in line under Coach Laudna’s commands and Chetney’s encouragement.
As the final buzzer rings, Orym lets out a long breath. He could keep going. Keep running and checking and hustling. But tonight he needs to switch gears and focus on something else. It’s just enough to keep his thoughts from getting too melancholy as his brain catches up to his body during the coaches’ post-game speech.
“Well fought tonight.” Laudna clasps her hands in front of her, like she does. “They certainly came to play, and you did not back down for a moment.”
The hard hat goes to a well-deserved Fearne, who’s worked her way back into Laudna’s good books. Orym smiles and notices Ashton beaming up at Fearne beside him.
“Just one more game against the host team tomorrow.” Chetney continues. “They’ll be out for blood, big crowd all here to see us lose.”
“We are in the second half crunch now, every game counts.” Laudna warns. “You may think a win or loss or tie doesn’t mean much since tonight has clinched a playoff spot. But in the gauntlet to come, every edge we can give ourselves counts.”
Every head is nodding. Focused. Eating up the coach’s words. Orym feels a well of pride in how far they’ve come this season.
//
Ashton peeks around the corner, scouting the scene in front of the Cerulean Palace. It’s a particularly clear night, so the moons cast enough light that Orym can see. He hopes they can find enough shadows to obscure their approach and entry. Technically they’re not trespassing. The owner gave them keys and everything. But he still worries about getting caught. Getting into trouble. Having to talk their way out of the situation, without his much more charismatic friends to bail them out.
“Looks clear to me.” Ashton hisses, waving them forward.
They’ve picked a side entrance, one that isn’t usually patrolled. Ashton wraps one of the black cloaks they brought tighter around their shoulders, and Orym follows suit with his own.
The two of them do a quick pass of the halls and then find an alcove to hide out in. Apparently, the disruptions were pretty random. But each night that something happened, there was paint splatter left in the same hallway. So that’s where Orym and Ashton hide near.
The night drags on and Orym is about to suggest giving up and going back for a few hours of sleep. Tomorrow’s game won’t be easy on their last day in Ank’harel on such little rest. But that’s when he hears something. Tapping Ashton lightly and signalling to be silent, Orym cocks his head to listen better.
No doubt, the sound of dragging can be heard from a distant hallway, probably on the floor above them. Then, a soft wailing noise breaks out. Orym and Ashton look at each other, a mix of eagerness and fear across his friend’s face is sure to mirror his own.
Orym signals to wait just another moment before they move. He can hear someone walking… okay, ghosts don’t walk. Not that he actually thought the thing was a ghost. The wailing continues where it started, but the footsteps are going elsewhere. Orym decides it’s now or never. He leads Ashton to the stairs where the steps seem to be going. A large shadow creeps down, horned and terrifying.
Orym backs against the wall, but Ashton never does go for subtlety. They jump out as the creature rounds the corner, grappling it to the ground.
“Argh!” Someone cries out.
Orym jumps in to help Ashton and is shocked at what he finds. On the ground, wrapped in a once-white sheet, is Brauis Doomseed. Black paint spilled all over the bottom of the stairs, the sheet, and Ashton. Who’s limbs are intertwined with their teammate’s.
“Braius?” Orym asks, incredulous.
“What the fuck, man?” Ashton untangles themself slowly from the wreckage.
Braius grunts irritably, still partially stuck to the ground in the mess of sheets and tools he had been carrying with him.
Orym looks him directly in the eye. “Start talking, big man, or we are going to have a problem.”
Orym strong-arms Brauis as he gets up off the ground. But the fight seems to have left Braius’ eyes. “It wasn’t me?” The big man supplies, half-heartedly.
They quickly clean up the mess on the stairs, then, Ashton insists on checking out the other noises. It turns out that the recording device Orym stumbled on the other day was this wailing sound Braius set up. In part distraction, partly to lean into the ghost facade. Honestly, Orym is a little surprised the guards hadn’t figured that part out earlier.
By the time the three are leaving the castle, the guards are on high alert. One of the Hands, J’mon’s personal security team, who Ashton had spoken with earlier that week, is there.
“Did you catch the-” he starts, then noticing the way Ashton is gripping Braius and the paint splatter all over the place, he shouts, “You?!”
Orym intervenes before things get violent. Braius may be in the wrong, but he is still a player on Orym’s team. Orym is still his captain. “We have him under control, he is compliant. Is your boss around? Or is this something that should wait til the morning?”
The Hand turns to address Orym. “She is awake. You can bring the perpetrator to her office immediately. We will escort you.”
//
It’s nothing short of a miracle that J’mon doesn’t press charges. Laudna and Chetney meet the three players at the castle and handle much of the negotiation. There would be no monetary reward for Orym and the gang, but that seemed a fair price to pay for Braius’ freedom.
Braius, typically not short on words, keeps his testimony short. “It was stupid, and childish, and I swear not to do anything like this again.”
But Orym sees through it all. The signs of someone just wanting approval; attention; something to bond over with friends. The loneliness Orym is all too familiar with. And what destruction a little misdirection can bring.
Laudna doesn’t take Braius’ betrayal lightly. She showed an aligned front when negotiating with J’mon, but as soon as they are out of there she warns Braius, “there will be hell to pay.”
“Yes. But for now, everyone get a good night’s sleep. We have practice in a few hours and the last travel game in the evening.” Chetney sighs. “It’s going to be a long day.”
//
Laudna has the whole team running lines at practice. She doesn’t tell them why, but Orym knows. The ferocity in her eyes shows.
“What the heck do you think happened?” Fearne asks him in between wind sprints.
Orym gives Fearne a wry smile, “I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.” He hazards a look over to Braius, who is wheezing unsubtly, despite his best efforts not to.
“Alright, on the line!” Laudna commands. “Chetney, number them off. You’re going to alternate between sprints and push-ups.” She quickly explains how they’ll compete with each other for water breaks. Its gruelling. Orym recalls the extra energy he had after yesterday’s game. Was that really only yesterday? It seems like weeks ago at this point.
When the first player starts to throw up, Orym senses the end is in sight. Laudna and Chetney keep pressing them for another couple of circuits though. The relief is palpable when Laudna’s seldom-used whistle finally sounds.
“That’s all for today’s practice.” Their head coach announces. “Clean up and meet me upstairs in the conference room.” She waits for the players to get moving before going over to Braius. Orym is too far away to hear what she says.
Imogen catches up to him as they walk up to the conference room. “Hey, do you know what’s goin’ on? Is Laudna okay?”
Orym says the same thing he said to Fearne earlier, adding, “she’s just doing her job, right?”
He can’t quite read his friend’s facial expression, but she sits down next to him as Orym finds a seat beside Ashton.
Laudna is off to the side, arms crossed and frowning. Once everyone has settled into a seat, she signals to Braius. He awkwardly gets up and shuffles to the front of the room.
“Hi, everyone.” Braius starts, sheepishly. It’s the smallest he’s seemed since Orym met the mountain of a man. “I just wanted to start with, I really appreciate everything everyone has done to help me fit in here. A new team is never easy…”
The room is quiet, all eyes on Braius.
“I guess I haven’t been completely honest with you, about why my last team didn’t work out. Or maybe what I’ve been up to this last week here in Ank’Harel.”
Imogen shifts next to Orym, he looks over and sees the daggers in her eyes.
“I’m sorry. The workout this morning. The punishment…” his eyes flit to Laudna for a moment, and then back down at his feet. “It’s all my fault.”
Quiet mumbling and grumbling start in the room.
“I just wanted to fit in. For you to all like me and, I’ve never been the most popular teammate… and, well, I guess this is why…”
The noise in the room grows to a hum and Imogen stands up, shouting. “What’d you do, Braius?!”
He relents. His face is that of a broken man. He tells them how he first played the prank with a sheet as a joke he could tell them about later. But then they got hired to investigate, and Orym invited him along, and it was the first time he felt brought into a little team for real. It spiralled out of control from there. Up until Ashton and Orym finally put a stop to him.
The Bells are all sympathetic, maybe with the exception of Imogen. Though, she seems more mad that Braius made Laudna upset, more than anything else. Laudna and Chet conclude the team meeting, stating that Braius is suspended indefinitely. They encourage everyone to come to the coaches with any questions or concerns.
“The plan stands that we will begin the long trip home after the game tonight,” Chetney states. “I have a few more lunch recommendations if anyone is wondering. But other than that, the day in Ankharel is yours!”
“Just remember, be responsible and get to the rink on time,” Laudna adds.
“That’s right. If you’re early you’re on time, and if your on time you’re late!” FCG chimes in.
Fearne grabs Ashton and Dorian to figure out a plan for lunch. “I’ll catch up in a few. Just let me know where we’re going.” Orym smiles at Dorian. He then dawdles leaving the room, he wants a moment to speak with Braius.
“Oh hey, captain.” Braius acknowledges Orym slowly.
“Hey. You doing alright?” Orym walks up beside him.
“Never better.” Braius sighs.
“You know, this doesn’t mean it’s the end.” Orym looks up at him. “Unless, you want it to be?”
“Nonsense,” Braiuse shrugs. “Look at me, you don’t want this.”
Orym shakes his head. “You’d be surprised at how understanding this group is. You’re not the first of us to fuck up. And you’re definitely not going to be the last.”
Braius looks defeated. “I just don’t understand how you can keep trusting me. After everything bad I’ve done.”
It’s Orym’s turn to shrug. “You seem to still be doing things aligned with the rest of our goals. Keep that up, and there’s no reason not to trust you, as a teammate at least. Whatever you do with the rest of your time, that’s on you. But as long as I can depend on you, from when that starting whistle blows to the end game horn sounds… that’s all I need to have your back.”
A tiny light seems to come back to Braius at that. “Thanks Orym.”
“Of course.” Orym replies.
Then Braius changes his tone slightly. “Are you doing anything for lunch?”
“Sorry, I uh- I already have plans.” Why can Orym never tell if Braius is flirting or just being friendly? “But, uh, maybe see if FCG or Chetney have left yet?”
//
Playing the Desert that night is strange. Orym knows it’s a big ending to the week, but it just feels so anticlimactic after the hard battles with the Peaks and the Lakers. They don’t play well. Orym and Ashton are gassed, and they lack Braius’ big presence. Dorian is off his game too. At least Imogen and Fearne seem to be playing well offensively.
As he watches the clock finally tick down to zero, Orym struggles to lift his hands over the bench to make some noise in victory. The margin was narrow, but a win is a win. He takes his time to file off the bench with the rest of his teammates to go and congratulate Dariax. Hugs and high fives are exchanged, but the atmosphere is notably subdued.
//
“Well done Orym of the Air Ashari.” It takes a moment for Orym to register the powerful voice as J’mon Sa Ord’s. He stops in the path to the team bus to face her. In the night air, only half of her face is lit up by the arena’s outside lights.
“Thanks. I’m guessing you mean for the investigation, not the game.” Orym supplies a wry smile to make his intent of a joke clear.
Fortunately, the mayor smiles back, close-lipped. “Yes, not your greatest performance tonight. A little preoccupied, I suppose.”
“All part of your grand plan?” He hazards a guess.
“No. I would not try and sabotage another team.” She says with weight. “That’s not my style. Even if it’s known to be used by… others.”
Orym nods. “I believe you.”
“I did not bring this up earlier. I didn’t know if I could trust you. But… Vex’ahlia mentioned something when we spoke last week.” She trails off. After taking a quick look around, J’mon pulls a flash drive out of her pocket. Handing it to Orym, she lowers her voice. “This wasn’t from me.”
Orym stares down at the slim silver rectangle in his hand. He slides it into a zippered pocket in his jacket. When he looks back up, J’mon is nowhere to be seen.
This is a fan fiction piece, characters are not my own. Everything is completely fictional. It takes place in a non-magic Exandria and draws inspiration from Critical Role characters and real-life events.
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