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oh-my-hubris · 28 days

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Loyalty Of Angels 2: A Legacy Of Service

Jhonny is forced to address a past he doesn't really have.

1322

Jhonny had read the letter so many times that when he fell over onto his thin mattress with the candle blown out he was reading it behind his eyelids. He didn't get letters. This was the first one he'd ever had in memory.

So, naturally, it was a doozy.

My Friend, I’m a researcher for the Queen’s archives, and I have recently uncovered some information regarding your parents. I thought you might want to see it. I would prefer to discuss the details in person, so if you will meet me at the palace gardens at Divinity’s Reach, I’ll share them with you. To prove I am what I say, I have enclosed half of an amulet, which I believe will match a broken one you’ve owned since you were born—something my research led me to uncover. I look forward to meeting you face-to-face. Sincerely, A friend.

In his fist, Jhonnen held his half of the amulet, the hardwood and inlaid mithril digging into his skin. The only clue to a mystery he had never believed would be solved. Who he was. Where he was from.

His first memories were of Queen's Heart Orphanage. Sometimes he could almost remember someone carrying him, but it slipped away before he could determine anything about that person. Even if they were real.

He had his name, but only his first name, and it might have been given to him by the Priestess of Kormir who raised him—though she denied it—and he had the amulet. Putting the two pieces together revealed the face of a lion and a weathered inscription reading, As true as the sky, as sure as the sword.

Even with the amulet in his hand, clenched in a fist, the leather thong remained around his neck as it always had.

He'd thought about throwing it away a million times. It was a question that wouldn't be answered and a tie to a past that wasn't really his. It was good hardwood, the mithril could have fetched an okay price.

But he'd never sold it. He had tried telling himself that he didn’t care. That if it had mattered who his parents were he wouldn’t have spent nineteen years not knowing. Someone would have come for him. He wouldn’t have grown up as unwanted as he had.

But the rest of him… needed to know. Who were they? Why did they leave him? If they were dead or not. How they had died.

The broken heart of a child, begging to be loved.

The amulet, for all that he wanted it to mean nothing, was the only proof that someone other than Priestess Isabeau had loved him.

The only enemy he really had was dead and hadn’t known about the amulet anyway, certainly not well enough to fake something like this. It wasn't Pete's style, anyway. The only person who’d seen him naked was Alice, and she’d accepted that everyone had their secrets.

Quinn was dead.

So he’d go. He had to go.

The next morning, Jhonny dressed and headed down to the bar, kissing Petra on the cheek to see her blush and turning to Andrew to tell him that he had business up in the palace gardens, but he’d be back to work in the evening.

Andrew had mostly forgiven him for the Pete-thing, the bar had been found in pristine condition because Thackeray had dealt with the blood and body after, apparently, carrying Jhonny up to the Temple of Six to deal with the whole ‘stabbed’ thing.

And Jhonny had paid for the beer, and that helped.

He headed up to the Palace Gardens and waited anxiously to be recognized. He tried to pretend like he was admiring the intricate hedges, but knew he looked every inch as impatient as he felt. Hedges weren't wildly interesting on the best of days, much less when you were waiting for fundamental answers to your existence.

“Jhonnen Jackson?” asked a man, coming up behind him. A hand settled on his shoulder.

“I recognize the first—” Jhonny moved quickly, jerking his elbow back when he felt the press of something sharp against his back, right above the kidney. He spun around, face to face with the man with the knife.

“Can I fucking help you?” he snapped. Was he being mugged in the royal gardens? Did people mug each other in the royal gardens? He’d never mugged anyone in the royal gardens

He was not an idiot.

…

He was less of an idiot, generally.

“Don’t be like that,” sneered the assassin. “I’m here to reunite you with your parents.”

Jhonny never went unarmed, a habit from the bad old days. In a flash he had his own knife in his hand.

The assassin whistled and suddenly Jhonny was surrounded, his back pressed to one of the hedges. He clenched the fist that didn’t have the knife and summoned Betty to him, turning the odds to two against… a lot.

So still not great.

But better, and that was enough to work with. It was rare for things to be much better than better anyway.

“Hold fast, stranger!” shouted a deep clear voice. “The Shining Blade is here!”

Jhonnen did not take his eyes off the assassin with the knife, because the moment he did he was dead, but he did wonder what the Queen’s personal guard was doing here.

Random do-gooding? Wasn't that supposed to generally be a Seraph thing?

At least it evened the odds a bit.

It had been a while since Jhonny had fought with a blade. The nickname ‘Little Knife’ referred to his penchant for swinging a greatsword around, but he knew the trick to knife fighting. The trick was getting in quick and accepting that you were gonna get cut.

The minute the two Shining Blade exemplars threw themselves into the fray, Jhonny had Betty run a path down the middle. Jhonny followed swiping with his knife and throwing knees and elbows. It was a quick and brutal fight, but at the end of it, a friendly, gauntleted hand picked Jhonny back up to standing.

The woman smiled at him, not a happy smile, but a stern, battle hardened smile. “When you’ve caught your breath, we should talk.”

“We can talk now,” Jhonny said, panting. He looked at the bodies. One of them had known something.

Jackson.

His last name… was it Jackson? Did it mean something? It apparently meant enough that someone had tried to assassinate him over it. He was a nobody. Less than a nobody.

So who were they after?

“Excellent work handling those foul cultists,” she said. “May they know Grenth’s justice. I’m Exemplar Sahlia of the Shining Blade. This is Exemplar Mehid.”

“Awesome,” said Jhonny. “I’m Jhonny.” Jhonny Jackson. Jhonnen Jackson. “What’s this about cultists?”

“White Mantle, to be exact,” said Mehid.

Jhonny looked at him skeptically. “I was pretty sure the White Mantle had been stomped out. And why bother attacking me?”

“They often target defenders of Kryta and its Queen,” said Mehid.

Jhonny looked at him skeptically again. He’d been involved with stopping Pete’s attack on the water supply and he’d told Thackeray (his buddy Logan, har har) that he’d step in again if needed. But he was hardly a stalwart defender of the crown.

He'd helped Thackeray with a mugging like… last week? Just because he was around.

Was that enough for the White Mantle to try and murder him?

Frowning, Jhonny took the amulet out of his shirt and the second piece out of his pocket. “They sent me the other piece of that amulet to lure me out here.” It might be relevant to whatever was going on, but he felt weird showing it.

The amulet was private.

“Judging from the symbol on that amulet, I’d say your family has been very loyal to the kingdom. For… a long time.”

Jhonny pursed his lips in question.

Sahlia peered over. “A mark of the king’s favor? That’s interesting. Probably from Queen Jennah’s father, if I had to guess.”

Mehid shook his head. “Isn't that…”

Sahlia shook her head harshly, ending the argument.

None of this made any sense. And that meant that there was something they weren't telling him. He hated it but arguing with people who made secrets their business was probably fruitless. Jhonny tucked the amulet away, half down his shirt and half into a pocket.

Sahlia nudged one of the bodies with her foot. “We’re about to raid a White Mantle hideout we found recently. A hunting lodge near Beetletun. It’ll be dangerous, but the cultists there may know more.”

“I think I know that lodge,” Jhonny said, bringing up a map of Queensdale in his head. The gang used to deliver stolen spirits out there. Jhonny himself had never gone, but he could find it. “I won’t take no for an answer, I’m more useful in a fight than this made me look and they… they might know more about my parents.”

Admitting it was galling. His unknown past was a private injury. One to be licked in private.

He shouldn’t care. It had been easier not to care. But the Shining Blade knew something.

Which meant that there was something to be known.

The Exemplars nodded their agreement and Sahlia headed off to inform the Seraph about the bodies. Jhonny stood there, numb with shock, as Captain Thackeray arrived with a couple of troops to haul the White Mantle corpses away.

“Why is it that when I find Kryta’s enemies in a pile, you’re standing nearby?” Thackeray asked, trying to make light.

Despite himself, Jhonny smiled a little bit. “I’m a lucky guy.” He gave a tiny shrug. “I'm also pretty quick with a knife.”

“You’re bleeding.” Thackeray pointed to the blood on Jhonny’s sleeve.

Jhonny sighed. “This is why I used to wear black. No one can tell you’re bleeding when you wear black.”

“That a big issue in your line of work?”

“Previous line of work. I’m currently a law abiding bar back. And, yeah, they see you bleed, they realize you’re not invulnerable, they get ideas. Surely you of all people know how it works. If you present an impenetrable wall…”

Thackeray nodded with a small smile off his own. “Eventually even your enemies will believe it.”

------

Jhonny reached the hunting lodge a little bit after Sahlia and Mehid, and was grateful that they had waited for him to start the assault.

Jhonny summoned a shade from thin air and ripped Betty out of the ground. “Backup,” he said out of the corner of his mouth, trying to quiet his nerves.

He was used to lowlives and street thugs. An injury or two was usually enough to end a confrontation and nobody had any real training. These were cultists, driven by fanaticism and probably trained to kill.

The bastard assassins in the gardens certainly had been.

He was used to being outclassed, but he did generally hate it.

Jhonnen marched on the doorguard, all five foot five and full of fire, he held his ground as he was surrounded and then whistled for Betty. What he lacked in training he made up for with inventive enthusiasm, using the greatsword to clear space and then pulling the knife when they got close enough. He followed Sahlia and Mehid’s lead as they ransacked the inn, murdering cultists and freeing the few non-Mantle guests.

A new initiate, trembling and terrified on her knees, gave them the location of the Confessor—down in the basement.

Jhonny had mixed feelings about what to with her but Salhia had decapitated her before he could get a word out.

That was handled, one way or another, and realistically probably the best the new cultist was going to get from the Shining Blade.

The Confessor, Jhonny figured, was the idiot in charge and that they’d have the answers he was seeking. And if they didn't they had joints that could be broken until they told him who did.

The Confessor was a pretty young woman with a silly had and a very large rifle. She was outnumbered, however, and being pressed on all sides, making the gun less of an asset.

“I need information,” Mehid said sternly.

The Confessor held her chin up defiantly, jerked the barrel under it, and went out with a literal bang.

Blood spurted up and rained down on the floor and some of the papers.

Gruesome and uninformative, but Jhonny refused to give up hope. He started looking through the desk she’d been standing at and then moved onto the bookcases. Tearing through bits of paper desperate for some reason the Mantle had been after him and some clue as to who his parents had been.

They were probably the same thing.

“You killed the Confessor,” said Exemplar Salia. “This is a true victory for Krtya.”

“Yes, great, whatever,” Jhonny muttered, still leafing through the papers. The Confessor had killed herself, he'd just been closest at the moment she pulled the trigger, and she'd been responding to Mehid.

Eventually he found a list of names. Logan Thackeray; protector of the Queen, Countess Anise; advisor to the Queen, Jhonnen Jackson; child of the Queen’s spies, the list went on and on. He showed it to Mehid and Salia.

The Queen's spies.

Mehid and Sahlia had said the amulet was from the King.

“Grenth’s Teeth,” swore Mehid. “It’s a list of targets! Every name on here is one of the queen’s allies. If they managed to take out all of these people—”

“They won’t,” Jhonny interrupted, and not just because his name was among them for some reason. “But first, I have to… warn Captain Thackeray.” It felt like the words were coming out of someone else’s mouth, but it was true. Thackeray would have warned him. He had to warn Thackeray.

His buddy Logan.

He looked at the Exemplars. “Thackeray deserves to know he’s a target and he might have a thought or two on dealing with this.”

Sahlia frowned and then sighed. “You’re right. Anise won’t like us sharing information so recklessly, but this is an emergency. We’ll meet you at Captain Thackeray’s office.”

Countess Anise wouldn’t be happy about telling a man who was on a list of targets about the list of targets. Even when that man was Logan Godsdamn Thackeray.

Countess Anise needed to get her priorities straight.

“Stay safe,” said Exemplar Sahlia, heading into the night. “We’ll draw less attention if we travel separately.”

Jhonny chuckled to himself, like he had to be told how to avoid unfriendly eyes. He had been the Little Knife, terror of Divinity’s Reach. He knew how to stay off the radar.

Hell, technically he'd never been caught. Technically.

He made his way back to Divinity’s Reach and headed immediately for the palace district, aware of how bedraggled he looked. The bruises from the fight were starting to stand out on his pale skin, his clothing was torn where blades had barely missed him.

At least he looked the part. Thackeray would probably take him seriously.

He was shown into the office and Thackeray took stock of him. “You look like you’ve been in a fight.”

“Happens after a fight,” Jhonny shrugged. “We’d better wait for the Exemplars to show up or you’ll have to listen to the same information twice.” He slumped into a chair. “Hair looks nice by the way.”

Thackeray smiled a little but rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Jhonnen.”

Fondly exasperated was a good look on the Captain. Made him seem like a person.

“That’s what I’m here for, spontaneous compliments and bad news.” He looked up as the door opened and Sahlia and Mehid entered the office with Countess Anise in the middle of scolding them for involving a civilian.

“Especially this civilian.”

Jhonny narrowed his eyes at the Countess, wondering what she was hiding from him. He looked away and smiled at Logan. “There’s the bad news I mentioned.”

Thackeray looked from Jhonny to the Shining Blade Exemplars and back. “More White Mantle?”

“More White Mantle,” Jhonny said, picking himself up out of the chair. “I’ll let them explain.”

He listened intently as the exemplars explained about the hideout and the lists. Thackeray’s scowl deepened with every word.

“We can’t let these roaches continue to spread,” he said at last. “I’ll mobilize the Seraph and burn this cult to the ground!”

“Logan, no,” said Anise calmly. “You’ve been fighting centaurs for too long. The White Mantle are cunning, treacherous foes. They will predict your moves, outmaneuver you.” She gestured to Salia and Mehid. “The Shining Blade has been fighting them for a long time. We know the best way to deal with the Mantle: stealth and cunning.”

“We need to move quickly,” said Mehid. “They probably know we’re coming either way. Our friend has been invaluable so far. Perhaps Jhonnen can offer some insight here.”

Jhonny’s eyes went wide as everyone looked to him. He was uncomfortable being the center of attention. Particularly with people who by all rights should have been arresting him.

Or should have arrested him a few years ago. He'd been remarkably well behaved recently.

“Agreed,” said Thackeray. “So, my friend, the choice is yours. Stealth or strength?”

There was a lot to unpack in what had just happened and Jhonny took a moment to do so under the guise of thinking very hard. Firstly, these sorts of decisions shouldn’t be left up to him, the only leadership experience he had was crime-based.

Then again, that gave him some insight into how the White Mantle was forced to operate, didn’t it? They couldn’t operate inside the laws of Kryta.

Which meant they needed to come at the cult sideways and then hit them hard. So a stealthy approach was probably the best plan.

None of this, however, accounted for Thackeray calling him his friend.

It might have been--and probably was--just a matter of speech. But there was a friendliness inherent in how Thackeray said it.

Jhonny had had precious few friends over his short span on Tyria, and all of them were dead. Because all of them had been Quinn. And he had failed to keep Quinn safe.

Logan—not Thackeray, not now—was loyal and brave and… actually pretty funny. He wasn’t as self-centered as he’d been made out to be.

If he wanted to be friends, if he was extending that olive branch, Jhonny had no choice but to accept. And accept… gladly. He and Logan had had a couple of run-ins since the poisoning incident. Mostly minor things, but they, surprisingly, got along. He had a better sense of humor and was more down to earth than Jhonny had expected.

Wow, he was going to need to drink later.

But possibly not by himself.

He cleared his throat. “If they act like a gang does, you’ll have to come at them sideways or they’ll scatter. If they go to ground, we stand less of a chance of actually dealing with them. So… we're going to have to go in stealthy and then hit them as hard as we can to make sure none get out.”

He looked up at Logan, mostly to see what he thought about Johnny disagreeing with him.

Logan looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded. “Makes sense,” he conceded.

They, mostly the Countess, laid out a plan to meet at a Seraph outpost in Kessex fields. Jhonny lingered after Anise, Mehid and Sahlia had left to prepare. He looked up at Logan and forced his posture to relax. “When this is over, you want to get another beer?”

Logan looked at him and smiled a little bit. “Yeah, I’d like that. Assuming you're buying.”

It felt like a tease.

And that was nice.

Jhonny grinned. “Thackeray, does something about this get up make me look made of money?” He rolled his eyes. “But, I can.”

Logan laughed. “How much do you think I make, Jhonnen?”

“Jhonny,” Jhonny corrected. “And more than I do as a bar back.”

“I'll get the drinks next time.”

Jhonny gave a short shrug and a smile. “Works for me.”

-------

They met on a hill in the swamp to hear Countess Anise’s sneaky plan, but it was Logan who actually seemed to have one.

This seemed to surprise Countess Anise in a way that was probably insulting and definitely funny.

“Get into position, everyone,” he ordered. “I’ll approach, and when they make their move, you all rush in a spring the trap.”

The Countess laughed a little, covering it daintily behind the back of one gloved hand. “You, Captain? No offense, but the Shining Blade and the White Mantle have a long history. Don’t you think I would make a more tempting lure.”

Logan shrugged. “No doubt. But wouldn’t that seem a little suspicious? You out walking alone, the queen nowhere in sight… At least I move about on my own regularly.”

Jhonny nodded. It was true. Logan did things like patrol and chat with ruffian bar backs. Apparently he made plans to get beers with them.

“That’s a good point,” said Exemplar Salia. “Where you do want us then, Captain? Anywhere is fine so long as we’re close to the action.”

Jhonny looked around and pointed to the ruins. “Those ruins are where I would lie in wait if I were waiting here, which I guess I am. Good elevation, walls to hide behind. We’ll be able to see and hear everything.”

“Sounds perfect,” Logan said. “Just be ready to move quickly when things turn ugly.”

Jhonny reached out and touched Logan’s elbow cob and gave him a thin-lipped smile. “I’ve lost one friend this year, not looking to lose two.”

Logan huffed something that was probably a laugh, just a burst of air from his nose and a small twist of his mouth in acknowledgement.

Jhonny nodded, trusting that that would be enough. Then he followed the others up the hill.

“Logan,” Countess Anise said, shaking her head. “Playing the part of the helpless victim. This should be… interesting.”

“Yeah,” Jhonny agreed. “He doesn’t strike me as an actor.”

The Countess gave Jhonny a cryptic smile that he automatically hated, and directed his attention to the scene below, where a woman in white and red robes and several armed men had stopped Logan in his tracks.

They were too far away for Jhonny to make out the woman’s dialogue but Logan…

Logan was showboating.

“Oh dear!” he said loudly, sounding almost theatrically bored. “Oh Mercy! The White Mantle is upon me. Woe! Lamentation! Is this the end for poor Logan?”

Jhonny covered his mouth to hide the smile and stifle the laugh.

Logan raised his arm and shouted, “Now!”

Jhonny slid down the muddy hill with his greatsword drawn, Betty charging at his side. The cultists’ surprise granted them a few seconds of advantage and Jhonny savored every one. A few cultists singled him out as the weak link: he was unarmored and not Countess Anise. When he was surrounded he pulled the mists around him, sinking half into Grenth’s domain to siphon the life from several bodies at once.

He and Logan made a pretty good team, actually. Logan’s shield giving Jhonny the defense he lacked and Jhonny’s greatsword extended past Logan’s reach.

Eventually the White Mantle lay defeated and Jhonny sank his greatsword into the mud to lean on it, completely disrespecting the blade.

The blade was pitted and chipped anyway. It was fine. “At least that’s over.”

Countess Anise sniffed disdainfully. “I think we were too easy on them, personally. After multiple attempted murders and abusing the memory of your parents, they got off light.”

“They are lying face down leaking red into the mud,” Jhonny pointed out, the reminder about his parents stinging.

Nineteen years of trying not to think about them made it second nature. But now he had remembered and it… hurt. His parents had been people. Enough that the evil fairytale cult from Kryta’s past was trying to murder him over it.

A gauntleted hand came down on his shoulder. “Will you be alright?”

Jhonny closed his eyes and tried to focus on how weird it was that Logan Godsdamn Thackeray was asking after his well-being instead of on the empty ache of a past he didn't know.

“I… yeah,” he said. “I’ll be alright.”

He didn't feel like he'd be alright, but there also wasn't another choice. Life would go on. He hadn't had parents a week ago and he wouldn't have parents a week in the future. He was an adult.

Exemplar Mehid cleared his throat and looked to Countess Anise for permission, receiving a short nod, before opening his mouth to speak. “Speaking of your parents… With this phase of the operation complete, I can tell you that Sahlia and I have located your parents’ last known residence.”

Jhonny’s jaw dropped open but even in his elation, and confusion, and anger, and hurt, he couldn’t shake the knowledge that he was only being told because Countess Anise permitted it.

He hated her.

“Where is it?”

“We can take you there,” Sahlia said. “The house is south of the Delanian Foothills, and if there’s anything worth finding, we’ll find it.”

Logan gave him a smile. “We’ll have that beer when you get back.”

“Right,” Jhonny said, feeling very surreal. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

-----------------

The trip to the Delanian Foothills was reasonably short, and yet still long enough for Jhonny to drive himself mad with ruminations. He felt like this was the furthest he'd been from the city, but if this was where he was from… then it wasn't. And that felt… weird. He stared at the abandoned homestead, the dilapidated buildings and broken fences, hoping something, anything would trigger a memory.

There were wisps, mostly forgotten hazes of have I been here? But how much was remembering and how much was wishful thinking was anyone's guess.

Someone had taken him to Divinity's Reach. Someone had given the priestess only his first name. Someone had left him with half an amulet and a lifetime of questions, resentment, and bitterness. Why wasn't he worth keeping? If it had been the White Mantle’s fault they probably would have just slit his throat then. Baby killing didn’t seem outside the realm of possibility for the cult.

Salia gave him an apologetic look. “Countess Anise asked us not to say more than necessary, as this is technically a royal matter, but… I think you deserve what truth we can give you. Your parents… a lot of your family going back… were Shining Blade. They helped track and destroy White Mantle cells, saving many lives in the process.”

“So you knew this was their house?” He hated Countess Anise.

Mehid nodded. “Yes. The last message on file from your parents states that they feared White Mantle cultists had discovered their secret. They were planning to flee.”

Salia’s apologetic look deepened. “The Shining Blade lost contact with them after that. Either they fled to safety or…”

“For my own sake, I have to believe they didn’t flee and leave me behind,” Jhonny said. It felt awful, hoping his parents were dead rather than had abandoned him, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't face the truth of being that unwanted. Discarded on purpose.

“I’m sure if they did they had a very good reason,” said Mehid, trying to be helpful.

What good reason was there for leaving your son completely in the dark? For throwing him aside? He’d grown up with an amulet and an unreliable friend. Until Andrew had taken a chance on him one person had been genuinely kind to him and that was the Priestess who raised him. He’d turned to crime and violence to survive.

Jhonny just turned his attention to the run down house. Whatever answers existed, if they existed, existed inside.

The house itself had been looted and squatted in, what furniture remained was busted or disintegrating, or both. Pressing forward, Jhonny found a door in a place where there shouldn't have been a door, only noticeable because the cabinet in front of it was mostly just lumber now. It opened to a small cave, and there, Jhonny found the answers he had been looking for. Magic fire burned blue to illuminate two small graves, like it was trying to keep the light even here. The tombstones were modest, simple slabs accounting for a husband and wife who had died for the country they loved. Trying to make a better world for their son, Jhonnen.

Jhonny curled to his knees in front of and between the two markers and buried his face in his hands, horrid, wretched sobs jerking his chest and shoulders.

Mehid and Salia did Jhonny the courtesy of turning away while he wept.

Knowing they were dead was one thing. Having it confirmed was… was quite another. Knowing they had loved him was almost unbearable.

He had hated them for so long. Hated them, tried to forget that he hadn't spontaneously come to exist within Queen's Heart.

When he finished he dried his eyes and drew himself to standing, turning back to the exemplars. “Do we know who set these gravestones?”

They both shook their heads, but Mehid… hesitated for a moment before he did.

They knew something.

“Friends?” Offered Sahlia, “Fellow agents? Whomever it was was likely the same person as took you to Divinity’s Reach, to safety.”

Jhonny nodded, he was used to questions that would never have answers and he wasn't going to get anything out of The Shining Blade that Countess Anise didn't want him to have.

“Look, I know you probably know, and if you don't, Countess Anise certainly does. Just … thank them for me.”

Salia nodded, silently confirming that she knew, and also that they weren't going to tell him.

------------------

Logan showed up at the tavern out of his armor and settled on one of the bar stools. Jhonny spotted him while hauling a tub full of dirty dishes. Without a word he put the dishes by the sink and moved to take the seat beside Logan.

Andrew looked confused but served two flagons of ale that the two men took and put to their lips in silence.

“Sorry about your parents,” Logan said, after a drink. He lowered his flagon and turned his head to look at Jhonny. “Are you—”

Jhonny shrugged, interrupting. “I already knew they were dead. It just makes me… it makes me think.” He took another drink of his ale. It was bitter, grounding. He filled his lungs with air. “Maybe I should take after them.” He never would have dreamed about going fully legitimate, but it felt like the only thing he could do to honor the parents who had loved him and the mysterious Shining Blade who had saved him.

It was also, selfishly, his best chance to get answers.

Logan cocked an eyebrow. “The Seraph could use you.”

“I’d rather work for you than Countess Anise anyway.” Jhonny managed a smile. “Steel is still not my color though.”

Logan snorted a little laugh. “I did see you first, she’ll have to recruit on her own.”

“Is that how it works, whoever saw the candidate first gets to recruit them?”

“If it gets you in a Seraph uniform and not a Shining Blade one? Then yes,” Logan took another drink. “Yes it does.”

“I'm not wearing the armor.”

Logan smiled. “We can work around it.”

#gw2 fanfic #Gw2 OC #logan thackeray #Countess Anise #OC: Jhonny

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