He woke up at the Inn, where Fatanm sat in a chair, waiting for him to wake up. Errantem had been brought back into his room. Bandages wrapped around his chest, as he laid down in bed. Fatanm, put down one of Errantem's journals, and looked right at Errantem.

So, you're awake now aren't you.

Obviously I am.

Errantem looked outside, and noticed it was daytime. He got up from his bed, but searing pain prevented him from doing so.

How long have I been out?

A day or two, but Brynn says you'll make a full recovery by tomorrow.

Magic, sped up the healing process, as Errantem felt the sharp pain of his ribs, slowly climbing back into bed. He heard the noisy cacophony of people outside, and he felt a headache come on. Errantem wanted to ask many questions, but all of that can wait.

Before you go back to sleep, I just wanted to tell you something about...us.

Errantem, shuffled closer towards Fatanm.

The telepathic curse that we are suffering from, is so far as I researched, incurable.

Ah, shame it has to be that way. I really don't want to delve into your thoughts. I really don't want to think about what kind of madness I'll suffer from in the future.

However, the curse is distance based. As long as I am about 1 kilometer away from you, we should be able to keep our thoughts at bay. And, well, I find it convenient that i live in Rocheste. That way, we should keep our encounters and thought to a minimum.

Errantem, surveyed the room, and noticed books lying about the Room, as Fatanm started to clean up her "study area". She had probably slept here for the past couple of nights, while being studious about how to get rid of this curse.

How about the money. The Gold?

Oh, yes. The Gold.

Using her wand, she produced a sack of gold from mid air, and placed it on Errantem's nightstand. Captain Aodhan must have paid him extra, for the effort, as a bottle of Strawberry Brandy, peered from the seemingly endless sack of coins.

Gnollbait and Cut'ir were lucky enough to make it out of there alive. By the time I dragged your body out of the Ruins, Gnoll Rangers started firing on us. It's a good thing they can't shoot worth crap.

Errantem felt the bag of gold. How heavy it was, how rich and deep in volume, and the feel of the cold, yellowy substance. A thought came to mind, and remembered how vicious she was. How intense she really was about the whole job. If it weren't for her, he wouldn't have is reward. He came to see, she was a competent and skilled mercenary.

You know Fatanm, I used to think you were some other ego-inflated mercenary. But. In realization, you're one heck of a good mercenary. You deserve your credit.

As do you.

All the books, laid upon the floor, lit up, and started to float in mid air. Then, with the wave of Fatanm's magic wand, they quickly aligned themselves into one, neatly piled stack.

Errantem, I do believe it is time to bid farewell. I must attend another party I was invited to.

She started to head out the door, taking her staff with her. However, Errantem had one last question to ask.

"Fatanm, will you really do anything, to pursue your goal?"

Errantem, looked at her quizzically. Her face became grave, and her tone of cheeriness left the building.

"Before I leave, I want to make sure you know this. I will do anything to get the job done. No matter how horrible, or violent I become, justice must be served. I don't know about you, but I think you should have the same vigor for both duty, and life as I do."

She picked up Errantem's journal with her wand, and placed it on his lap.

"I've read through your journals and searched your thoughts. Your family, has a very long history of betraying the Crimson Blade Mercenaries. I can see why Aodhan thinks of you as expendable. However, I pray that you will not turn your cheek on the Crimson Blades. You swore an oath to destroy all the Fomorians. And I swear, if I ever catch you on the other side of the war, you are dead to me, despite all that has, or ever will happen to us as comrades. Farewell, Greenshirt."

And on that note, Fatanm walked away into the hallways, eventually disappearing from Errantem's sight by the window. When she finally left his mind, Errantem had a familiar sense of peace of mind and privacy come back. There was much to learn from that woman, and a lot to learn about being a Mercenary in general. And, Errantem saw, some emotional growth for the young woman. She seemed more uprooted in her goals now. Like Errantem. Perhaps, when she peered into his mind, she found what appealed to him as a person. Still, despite being beat up(again) by Gnolls, he was proud to have Fatanm as a comrade. And other than that, she called him a Greenshirt. A Greenshirt.

Then, it came to him. He was still, nobody. A Greenshirt. Someone who was expendable, right to the very definition of it. Easy to replace, and easy to die, the green-garbed men of the Crimson blade mercenaries were easy to come by. He was a product of the war, that would be seldom missed, if he ever expired. Errantem realized a new goal in mind, as Erinn could wait. He had to make a name for himself. He needed armor. Something that would separate him from the rest of his comrades. Still, as Erinn and Armor could wait, he had to rest.

Taking the bottle of Strawberry Brandy, he quaffed the entire bottle in one fierce gulp. The taste was extremely horrible, as Errantem gagged and almost vomited from consuming it. And as the coughing died down, he fell asleep. And as he slept, he dreamt of what was, and what may be.

Lawl, you actually gagged while drink that entire bottle?

Yeah, so?

You should learn how to hold your liqour.

Hey Fatanm?

Yes?

Shut up.