A Promise of Fire
Chapter 5
29th of Retulman, 1667 Age of Enlightenment
Emecar awoke to the loudest knocks he’d ever heard in his life. Waves of pain washed over him, and as sunlight hit his eyes, he didn’t believe it was possible for the sun to be any brighter. His vision was hazy, his head pounded, and his stomach lurched.
What happened?
The knocks rang in his ears again. Emecar groaned and rolled out of bed; he felt an intense, sharp pain run up his right arm. He looked and saw the knotted, bloody bandage on his arm, and felt another tied around his neck and chest. Sprawled out on the floor were his bloodied and tattered clothes covered in vomit from the previous night. He didn’t remember undressing himself. In fact, he didn’t remember much of anything from the previous night; the last thing he remembered was stepping into the Lady’s Rose and…dancing?
Did I dance last night?
Across the room, snoozing calmly in the other bed was Rukifelth. He too had a couple bandages wrapped around his arms and neck. Emecar groaned. “Blighted fae.” His throat was painfully dry to the point where it hurt to even speak; the awful taste of bile still lingered on his tongue. “Blighted everything.”
More knocks. Emecar grunted as the noise rang in his ears. He hobbled to his feet and then across the room, struggling to keep his balance as it felt like the whole world was on its side. When he opened the door, he nearly floored himself as he saw Emli standing there. Her bright smile quickly faded when she saw him in his ragged clothes and bloody bandages.
“Emecar, what happened to you?” He was so caught off guard that he wasn’t sure what to say. She reached out and touched the bandage on his neck and said, “Are you alright?”
“Y-Yeah.” He struggled to say even that much. “Just a little under the weather, but I’m alright.”
Emli looked at him with such concern in her eyes, and as she leaned forward to hug him, her face suddenly pinched as if she’d just eaten a bitter lemon. She wafted in front of her nose and said, “Goodness, monsieur, just under the weather, is it?”
At first, Emecar just stared at her, unaware of what she was doing, but it quickly dawned on him as he remembered his ragged vomit covered trousers and coat. Embarrassment washed over him, and he spun around to pick up his filthy clothes. Unfortunately, the world was still spinning, and Emecar collapsed hard to the ground.
His whole body ached, and his head pounded fiercely, but worst of all was just how pathetic he felt. Why did Emli have to see him this way.
“I-I’m sorry,” he muttered. He wanted to look at her, but he couldn’t bear her seeing him like this. “Last night was a bit rough, so Rukifelth and I had a-a couple of drinks. I suppose I got a little carried away.”
“A little? By fire, Emecar, it smells like you drank the entire tap!”
Emecar winced. “I’m sorry.”
Emli helped him up off the ground and assisted him to a nearby chair. It gave a slight squeak–a squeak Emecar would hardly notice on a normal day–that pierced his ears and made him feel even more nauseous. He was surprised to feel Emli kiss him on the cheek.
“Don’t be sorry,” she said, and then she went to pick up his dirty clothes. “We all fall to our vices from time to time. Even me.”
Emecar couldn’t think of a single vice or sin Emli could commit, but by her mischievous giggle, he knew there was something. That little laugh of hers, he thought, was the most beautiful sound in the world; it filled him with so much joy and hopefulness that the singer from last night couldn’t compete.
That singer, he thought; he remembered her. There was something about her–something about her singing and dancing–that gave Emecar a strange feeling in his stomach. Perhaps that was just the booze.
He watched as Emli went about tidying his little apartment. She tucked his filthy clothes into a small basket in the corner, and then grabbed a washcloth, dampened it with warm saltwater, and began to wipe down the floor.
It was then Emecar realized that she wasn’t wearing the typical maiden’s coif, and instead a green silk bow was tied into a ribbon in her orange curls. Lastly, on her wrist was a small leather bracelet adorned with a cut crystal amethyst that he’d never seen her wear before.
Where did she get that?
As she finished wiping down the floor, Emecar asked “W-What’s the occasion?”
“What do you mean?”
“Y-You came to visit,” he said. “It’s not often you come here.”
“I was nervous,” she said. “When you didn’t show up to ceremony this morning, I was afraid something had happened to you last night, so I wanted to come check up on you.” Gesturing to his bandages and bloody coat, she said, “I expect you to tell me what happened, but first, why don’t I brew you some tea for that headache.”
Emecar’s stomach twisted, and he thought he was going to vomit. In the midst of everything that had happened last night, he completely forgot about his promise. His face fell into his hands as he apologized again.
“Please, don’t cry,” she said.
Was he crying? Emecar looked up at her and could feel the tears running down his cheeks. He tried to smile and said, “I’m a mess. You sure you’re still in love with a man like me?”
“Oh, you’re being too hard on yourself,” said Emli. She pulled up a chair beside him–its loud screech bouncing off the wall–and rested her hands on his. “Just tell me what happened. Please?”
Emecar didn’t want to tell her the truth–about the fae–but after all she’d done for him, and how she treated him, still after all this, he thought the truth was what she deserved, even if it was scary.
“You remember those rumors I told you? The ones about fae?” She nodded nervously, and Emecar told her everything he could remember from the previous night: about the childnappers, the fog, and the massive four-armed fae. The more he talked, the more terrified she became. “Try not to worry. The fae can’t reach you.”
“You sound so sure?”
“Of course,” he said proudly, but the dryness of his throat made him sound more feeble than proud. “Should those fae try and slip into the city proper, they’ll need to get through me first!” She smiled, but it was hollow. Emecar watched her fidget with her skit; he took her by the arms and whispered, “I promise to keep you safe.”
The tea kettle began to whistle, and Emecar felt the whole world turn upside down. He rested his head on the table as Emli poured him a small cup of lemongrass tea. Unfortunately, he’d no honey or sugar, but anything was better than nothing. Slowly, as he sipped the hot tea, the awful pain in his throat and head began to wash away. He took long, deep breaths and could finally smell the thick scent of alcohol permeating the room. It nearly made him gag.
Emli then took another damp cloth and draped it on Emecar’s forehead. The droplets of water felt like ice dripping down his back and shoulders, but it helped alleviate some of the pain in his head. He relaxed his head, just as Emli began to clean his wounds. She doffed the old bandages and gasped at the sight of his wounds, quickly getting to work mixing some herbs and medicines from the cabinets and forming a thick poultice that she spread onto a fresh bandage. After tending his arm, she looked at his chest, and then his neck. Once all the old bandages were replaced, Emli kissed him on the cheek and hugged him tight.
The pain in his head and behind his eyes was finally beginning to subside, and he figured he was strong enough to hug her back.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you too.” She looked up at him, her nose wrinkled and said, “You still stink.”
Emecar was flabbergasted. He tried to say something witty–anything at all–but all he could do was laugh, and Emli laughed too. The weight had been lifted from his shoulders as all the grief, sadness, and guilt he felt wafted off for tomorrow to worry about.
Emli took the small bracelet from her wrist and handed it to Emecar. “Amethysts hold the color of abjuration; the power to protect. My parents gave this to me when I began my journey as a maiden, though I can’t cast Aether, and I’m forbidden to even learn the artes.” She placed the bracelet into Emecar’s hands and said, “But you can.”
“Emli, I can’t take this from you,” said Emecar. He looked down at the leather bracelet and the violet gemstone embedded within. He could feel the faint pulse of Aether within.
“You aren’t taking it; I’m giving it to you,” she said. She kissed him on the cheek. “I want you to have this, so you can protect yourself; so you can protect all of us.”
She helped tie the bracelet to Emecar’s wrist. Within the amethyst, Emecar could see small flecks of light swirling within. He knew that as long as he wore it, there would always be a part of Emli with him.
Emli stood up and said, “Well, I best be off. I told the other sisters I’d be back once I checked in on you, so they’ll be expecting me any moment now. Now you drink up the rest of that tea and rest, you hear? If–and only if–you’re feeling better tonight…” Emecar saw her violet cheeks flash pink, “would you kindly come see me?”
“Of course, mademoiselle.”
Delighted, Emli gave him a kiss and departed, making sure to gently close the door behind her.
Emecar finished off his tea and tried to stand. Though the world wasn’t as lopsided as it once was, he still felt dizzy. He took a few steps to the window and stared up at the winged stallions soaring across the sky, and then down at the streets below; an awful wave of vertigo washed over him, and Emecar nearly fell to his knees.
Just how much did I drink last night?
“I see that wasn’t the booze talking.”
Emecar quickly turned his head–a bad idea for how nauseous he was–and saw Rukifelth perched at the foot of his bed. He wore a peculiar smile, one Rukifelth didn’t wear often.
“What are you on about,” asked Emecar. “How long have you been awake?”
“Since you went trudging to the door; I couldn’t sleep through all that clatter.” He laughed. “As for what I’m on about: I mean you and mademoiselle L’Aveline.”
Rukifelth hopped out of bed and retold Emecar everything that he’d done in his drunken stupor last night. The more and more he spoke, the hotter Emecar’s cheeks grew. Rukifelth couldn’t help but laugh at his brother’s misfortune.
“I admit,” Rukifelth continued, “that I am a little jealous. I wish I had someone who cared about me that way.”
“D-Did I really say all that,” asked Emecar.
“Y’did, as well some other gibberish I—nor anyone else—could understand.” Rukifelth poured some of the remaining hot water from the kettle into their water basin and used it to wash his hands and face. He stripped off his sweaty old shirt and replaced it with a fresh one from their wardrobe. His bandages looked gnarled and worn, and Emecar suggested he change them, but Rukifelth ignored it.
“W-What happened last night,” asked Emecar.
“You mean before or after we were attacked by fae?” Emecar glared at him, and Rukifelth laughed. “You nearly drank us dry, you lummox. I think you spent twenty-some penters on booze alone.”
“T-Twenty?” Emecar shook his head. “No! Not the drinks; that woman! That strange singer!”
“What about her?”
“Didn’t you notice the…” Emecar didn’t know what he was about to say. Just as the words left his lips, the thought slipped his mind. He tried to remember what it was he’d seen last night in the tavern, but his mind kept blanking the harder he thought. “I swear, as she was singing, I-I got this strange feeling. It was odd, but I thought she was…”
“Flirting with you,” said Rukifelth scrounging through the cupboards. “Don’t worry, she was flirting with everyone.”
“No! I saw…” Almost instantly, the images came rushing back to Emecar. He saw himself dancing under the night sky, he saw Emli, he saw everyone, he saw… “Flames!”
Rukifelth stared at Emecar unsure about what he’d just said. “I think you just had too much to drink,” he said.
Emecar sighed in defeat and slumped back into his chair. Maybe Rukifelth was right; maybe it was just booze. He draped the washcloth over his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “Do you know if there’s any way we can cast Aether to cure a hangover?”
Lieutenant Vechelot was a woman used to dealing with the public, especially in times of crisis, but she had to admit that this was getting ridiculous. She looked to the woman across from her as she belligerently went on and on about the disappearance of her son, Albert.
“We’ll do our best, madame,” Vechelot said looking through her notes and reports. “The boy couldn’t have gone far. I’m sure he’ll turn up. I’ll keep as many men on patrol as I can. We will find your son.”
The mother burst into tears as she was escorted from the lieutenant’s office by a young officer.
Vechelot rubbed her brow in frustration; another child missing: five in three days. Scattered across her desk were the reports of the other missing children, and now this fifth child was just more weight on her shoulders. There were no leads, nor potential suspects in regard to these missing children. Her men in the field were effectively searching blind.
But one report did stand out to her. It was on her desk when she arrived that afternoon from Sergeant Astier from the South 4th district. The sergeant wrote that the mercenaries she’d assigned to assist his district claimed to be attacked by fae during their patrol. The two officers on patrol with the mercenaries–Sharles Tabard and Bruno Lafayette–also wrote reports supporting the claim.
The lieutenant rapped her fingers on her desk, pondering as to what was really going on. Fae were an impossibility; they didn’t come close to the city, so she continued to scan the reports, and something from Officer Tabard’s report stuck out to her: “The fog seemed to mask any screams for help–from both outside and within.”
Manipulating sound, she thought, sounded awfully familiar. She tucked her reports aside and began to rummage through her desk, looking for a report she’d received from the Zaldean city-watch several weeks ago. There were rumors regarding an unknown assailant they dubbed “The Shadow Singer.” She thought she remembered something about a rogue arcanist going on a killing spree and using their Aether to mask the cries of its victims: all Elven women known to be involved in the musical and theatrical arts. Word of the murders was sent around to all the high cities of Singard to keep out a watchful eye for any adepts or arcanists and report them to their local city-watch right away.
Vechelot scoffed at the notion: easier said than done. The Zaldean city-watch didn’t have any idea as to who this Shadow Singer could be. They had no physical description, nor did they know if it was a man or a woman; they simply assumed it to be a man based on previous investigations with similar victims.
Perhaps it wasn’t a man, thought Vechelot. Perhaps it was a spiteful woman getting revenge on the men who spurned her by killing their lovers, or perhaps it was a young up-and-coming diva who wanted to clear out her competition. Vechelot shook her head; this wasn’t the case at hand.
When she found the report, she was thoroughly disappointed. With the exception of the masking of screams, nothing in the report shared any similarities with that given by her officers.
Vechelot tossed her reports aside and gave a loud groan of frustration as she rested her face in her hands. There were some days she believed she didn’t get paid nearly enough for what she had to deal with.
There was a knock at her door, and in stepped a young officer. Vechelot looked at him through her fingers. What was his name? Officer Ménard? Gainsbourg?
“You wanted to see me, Lieutenant,” the young officer asked.
Did she? Vechelot swore under her breath; she couldn’t even remember her own orders or subordinates. She sighed and said, “Yes, officer, I’d like you to send notice to the South 4th district for Sergeant Astier. Tell them I need to speak with him as soon as possible.”
It was a couple hours past noon–after Emecar and Rukifelth had cleaned and patched up their tattered, filthy clothes and gotten a bite to eat–when they arrived at the troupe hall to report with the captain. Though the pain had mostly subsided, Emecar’s head continued to spin. Reporting failures to the captain was already one of the hardest parts of the job, but now Emecar had to do it in the aftermath of the worst hangover in his life.
Diantha sat at her desk and greeted them as they entered, never looking up from her never-ending filing of papers and contracts. When the two had told her that they’d been dismissed from duty, she glared up at them over her glasses and said the captain wouldn’t be happy to hear it, but that he needed to hear it, nonetheless.
She hopped from her desk and went to report to the captain while the two made their way to the small and sparsely decorated meeting room where they anxiously waited for the captain’s arrival. The meeting room was once used by the troupe leaders to discuss official business, but with Captain Grisdel the only acting man in charge, the room was now exclusively used for disciplinary meetings, or the occasional meeting with the city-watch or crownsguard.
Perhaps today, Emecar thought, it would be used for all three.
When Captain Grisdel stepped in, he didn’t even acknowledge the two with a greeting. In his hand was one of Diantha’s licenses, and after quickly scanning it, he sat at the far end of the table across from them.
“Diantha says you were dismissed from duty last night.”
“Yes, sir,” said Emecar weakly.
“Why?”
Rukifelth swallowed hard and said, “I-It’ll sound ridiculous captain, but please allow us to explain.”
“I’m all ears, Asphodel,” said the captain. He nonchalantly leaned back in his chair and gingerly rested his hands in his lap. “Tell me: what happened last night.”
“It was…” Emecar’s head began to spin. He tried to keep himself composed, and his thoughts under control. He dug his fingers into his knees and said, “It was…”
“Fae, sir,” Rukifelth said quickly.
The meeting room fell silent for only a few seconds, but Emecar thought it felt like hours. The judging gaze of the captain bored into them as he wondered if he should believe them or have them condemned.
“Fae,” he said simply. “You’re sure?”
“We swear, captain,” Rukifelth said frantically. “We’ve no reason to lie about this. When we told that sergeant what happened, he called us liars and dismissed us, but there were other officers there who saw it: Tabard and Lafayette! A-And civilians saw it too!”
“Please, sir. There’s no way we’d make up a lie like this,” said Emecar.
There was another long silence. The captain asked, “These officers, were they Elven or Human?”
“Why does that matter,” asked Rukifelth.
“I simply want to know if…” Captain Grisdel stopped and recomposed himself before saying, “I simply want to have a clear picture of the event.”
Rukifelth scoffed. “They were humans, captain. Dirty little humans just like us.”
“I see.” The captain stared down at the table, biting his tongue. “Recount the events last night to the best of your abilities. Leave out no detail.”
Emecar and Rukifelth did their best to tell the captain about what had happened. They told him about the Brugiérs, the childnappers, and Emecar told him about the massive four-armed fae. The entire time, Captain Grisdel just watched. Emecar could see the occasional flash of yellow Aether, the color of divination, around his eyes trying to discern truth from fiction.
Emecar wished he could tell what the captain was thinking. He wished he could use the color of divination to peer into the captain’s mind and find out exactly what it was they needed to say to convince him, to give him evidence that the attack really happened, but what evidence was there? For decades, if not longer, Lionbrand was safe from any and all fae activity. Perhaps a lone fae could wander in and play the odd trick on a child or the like, but an attack?
Finally, the captain said, “Did you get paid for your work?”
Emecar was thrown aback. That was certainly not what he thought the captain was going to say. “W-We did, sir.”
“Half of what we were told,” Rukifelth added spitefully.
“You’re lucky to have gotten paid at all,” said Captain Grisdel. He took Diantha’s license and glanced it over once more before saying, “I’ll need to collect your dues, and since I’m feeling generous due to the rather unexpected circumstances, I allow you to only pay half: a penter each.”
Emecar and Rukifelth stared at one another, defeated. There would be no point in arguing any further. They stood and made their way to the opposite side of the table, each dropping a copper penter beside the captain.
He scooped them up and said, “Very good, I’m glad you’re both being mature about this.”
Rukifelth rolled his eyes; Emecar nudged him.
“What about work,” asked Rukifelth. “Surely, the watch won’t want us back.”
“No, almost certainly not.” The captain looked them up and down and sniffed. Based on his expression, Emecar knew the captain smelled the booze on him. “I think it’d be best if the two of you took the next few days to rest. After last night, you look like you’ll need it.”
“So, we’re being suspended,” said Rukifelth.
“I didn’t say you are suspended, Asphodel,” said the captain, “just that you two should take this time to rest and recuperate.” Rukifelth looked ready to boil over, as if the captain had insulted them just as much as Sergeant Astier.
As the captain started to leave, Emecar said, “You will talk to the watch, right sir?”
“Don’t worry, Valen. Neither of you will get into any trouble. I’ll see to that.”
“No sir, not about us; about the fae!” Captain Grisdel was silent. “Please sir, Officers Tabard and Lafayette, they saw it too. Talk to them at least. Please.”
The captain stood in the doorway, silently mulling over Emecar’s last desperate plea before saying, “I’ll see what I can do,” and then he was gone.
Alone in the meeting room, the two sat back down. Rukifelth’s fists were tightly clenched, and Emecar knew that his brother would do something drastic if he didn’t calm him down.
“It’ll be alright,” Emecar said weakly.
“Alright? Our captain believes us just as much as that sergeant,” roared Rukifelth. He shook his head furious and said, “I thought he’d be different, Emecar; I though he’d at least hear us out for being his men, but he couldn’t care less! No, we’re just another way for him to line his pockets!”
“Well, what do we do,” asked Emecar. “We can’t just leave the watch—”
“What? Unaware,” screamed Rukifelth. He slammed his hands into the table and dug his nails into the wood. “We tried, Emecar! We told them about the fae, but we’re just a couple of Inféral mercenaries. By fire, our captain doesn’t even believe us! Pull them between the cracks, Emecar! If they don’t want our help, then let them all die for it!”
Emecar wasn’t sure what he could say to that. He wanted to disagree, but deep down he felt the same way. He was angry at not being believed–at being seen as inferior–but he still needed to help them. If he gave up, and fae did sneak into the city, who would get hurt next. He stared down at Emli’s bracelet on his wrist.
Protect the innocent…
“You don’t really mean that,” said Emecar half-heartedly.
“Maybe I don’t, or maybe I do,” said Rukifelth. He took a deep breath. “Maybe I’m sick of us getting treated like children where our words mean nothing. Maybe I’m sick of them thinking they can just treat us like animals. Y’know, if that sergeant would’ve attacked us last night, nothing would’ve come of it; it all would’ve just been swept under the rug, but if we fought back–and by fire if he got hurt–those other officers would’ve pressed our faces into the dirt, their guns pressed to our heads.”
Emecar knew this was no longer about how the city-watch treated them as mercenaries; this was about how the elves treated them as humans: inférals. What could Emecar say? Could he say anything? He wanted to argue–to fight back and say his brother was wrong–but he knew, deep down, that he was right.
He imagined what would’ve happened if he or Rukifelth would’ve struck Sergeant Astier for berating them, and how immediately they’d have been arrested for assaulting an officer of the city-watch. No amount of appeasement from the captain, or from the temple, would do them any good. A couple of inférals attacked an officer, and for what? Name calling? Why would they think their pride was anything worth defending?
Emecar felt his head begin to spin and he said, “Maybe a walk would help clear our heads? I know it’d help mine.”
Rukifelth didn’t speak. He just took a deep breath to calm himself and left. Emecar needed just a bit longer.
As they walked the streets of the city, Emecar thought about the various townsfolk all living their lives: bakers, cobblers, tailors, carpenters, and smiths; all kinds of artisans and merchants doing their business from day to day like everyone else. The elves and humans went about their day like there was nothing between them, but how often, Emecar wondered, had an elf–another common man like himself–spoke down to him all because he was a human living in a world of elves?
For so long, he’d tried to keep that part of his life tucked away. He didn’t want to believe it. After all, they were just commonfolk; they weren’t nobles or high lords, but then he thought about the homeless and destitute. How many were humans, and how many were elves? The answer was obvious: for each impoverished elf who lived on the streets, there were at least five humans behind them. How many human children worked in the factories compared to elvish children, and how many human children attended schools?
What about the orphaned? With the exception of Kayo, all of them in the temple were humans. Even when he was a little boy, Emecar could only recall one Elven child before Kayo. Was it a coincidence?
And how did Liza feel about him? Or Emli? Did they think of him as inferior?
No, of course not. Maybe after this morning though?
He shook his head.
As they walked, they discussed that–since they’d be out of work from the troupe for a while–they’d need to take on odd jobs to make coin. It may not have been an official suspension from the captain, but his word was final, and if they showed up asking for work, Diantha would deny them until Captain Grisdel told her otherwise.
They mulled around the market square, running a few errands as well as looking for work. While buying a few goods for their pantry, Rukifelth spotted a merchant they’d done business with before. Despite his best schmoozing, the man simply didn’t have any work for them. They asked a second merchant, and then a third, and then a fourth, and before they knew it, they’d asked every merchant and artisan in the square. None had any need of a couple mercenaries, not even a parcel delivery or guard work.
The hours pressed on, and Emecar felt the heat from the sun beat down on him. To make things worse, his head was beginning to pound again.
“Why don’t you head back and get some rest, eh,” said Rukifelth. Emecar shook his head, but Rukifelth said, “You’re sweating like its midsummer, and I can see you teeter as you walk.”
“No, I’m…” Emecar felt the world start to turn; perhaps rest wasn’t such a bad idea. He could smell the lingering alcohol in his breath and figured it certainly wasn’t helping them find work. He sighed and said, “I think that’d be for the best.”
“That’s right, listen to your big brother,” said Rukifelth. He was smiling, so that was good, thought Emecar. However, often times his brother only smiled when he had something to hide. Without arguing, Emecar took what little they’d bought from the market and made his way home.
Once their pantry had been stocked, he doffed his coat, his weapons, and his shield, and laid in his bed. He stared out the window and felt the warm rays of sunlight usher into their dingy apartment. It hadn’t dawned on him just how tired he was until his head hit the pillow. His eyelids grew heavy, and he dozed off to sleep.
Rukifelth couldn’t keep his thoughts under control; he couldn’t stop thinking about the fae, he couldn’t stop thinking about the sergeant, he couldn’t stop thinking about Captain Grisdel, he couldn’t stop thinking about money, he couldn’t stop…
He was glad Emecar agreed to head back home and rest; Rukifelth really just wanted to be alone. Despite the crowded city streets, no one looked at him; no one acknowledged him; no one would notice if he just dropped dead right there. The shops would stay open, the mail couriers would keep flying, and the watch would keep watching. He was just another human wasting the day away, but they’d absolutely notice him if he caused a ruckus; if he started panhandling, they’d notice him; if he started a fight, they’d notice him; if he started loudly declaring his distaste of the High Lord or the crownsguard or the city watch, they’d notice him.
Trying to control his temper, Rukifelth made his way along old streets from when he was a little boy, and soon arrived at a familiar blacksmith, the one where both he and Emecar had their sabres forged: Le’Seur’s. Surely, an elderly blacksmith had a need for an extra hand around his forge, thought Rukifelth. He stepped up to the door and peaked in through the window where he saw Master Donal Le’Seur, an elderly Elven man Rukifelth assumed was nearing two-hundred years old, hammering away at the rough edges of some horseshoes. He had dark indigo skin and a strong physique fitting a man who’d worked the forge for over a century.
Swallowing his pride, Rukifelth stepped in. The elderly man seemed delighted to see him; his bright orange-amber eyes lit up as he said, “Rukifelth? Long time no see, eh? What brings you in? How’s the sword?”
“G’afternoon, Master Le’Seur,” he said bowing. “The blade is fine. As for why I’m in, I thought…” He took a deep breath, swallowing hard, and said, “I’m currently looking for work and was wondering if you needed any help around the forge. Say, five penters?”
The old elf smiled mischievously as he set down his hammer and stretched his back and shoulders. “Ah, the troupe not givin’ ya much work, eh? All is well then, I suppose; er, not for you, but for the city and country, right? If the troupe ain’t busy, that means there’s no need for ya!” He slapped his leg and let out a loud belly laugh as if it was the funniest joke he’d ever made. Rukifelth, trying to be as polite as possible, laughed along. After his laughter subsided, Le’Seur used a pair of tongs to pick up the horseshoes and place them back into the kiln. “Clean-up is always appreciated, though I suspect a boy–er, man–with your youth and energy would be wasted on just cleaning up the place.”
Rukifelth watched as the man pumped the bellows, heating the kiln. “I can work that for you. The bellows, I mean. Awfully tedious work, ain’t it?”
“It sure is. Thank you, lad,” said Le’Seur wiping the sweat from his brow.
For nearly an hour, Rukifelth helped Le’Seur blast the bellows, and occasionally he took a turn banging out the curves of the shoes; Le’Seur always made sure to take care in apply the finishing touches. As they worked, the master smith gossiped on and on about the factories stealing away all his clientele for products that were cheaper but of far less quality than what he was producing.
“Those factory workers ain’t got heart,” he said between the strikes of his hammer. “Take your sabre for example:” clang, “those factory-made blades ‘ll shatter in less than a month, I tell you!” Clang! “Not only that, but they blighted well stole up all the young workers. No one wants to apprentice under an old man like me,” clang, “and take up work in a true forge when they can just work in those blighted factories!”
Clang!
“Need me to take over,” asked Rukifelth. He saw the sweat dripping from Le’Seur’s forehead, and he could hear the old man’s breathing grow heavier. Le’Seur nodded and handed him the hammer and tongs. Rukifelth set the horseshoe back into the kiln until it was glowing red and got to work pounding out the curves.
Clang!
Clang!
“Y’know, lad, if you were a bit younger, I’d have gladly taken you in as an apprentice. You got a real talent for it, y’know,” said Le’Seur.
“Sadly, if I was young enough to be your apprentice,” clang, “I think I’d just up and work for those factories too,” said Rukifelth.
There was a hollowness in the old man’s eyes, and a sadness in his voice as he said, “I suppose you’re right. You’re lucky, y’know?”
“Am I now,” said Rukifelth. Clang! “In what regard?” Clang!
“There’ll always be a need for men like you.” Clang! “You may have your slow seasons, but there’ll always be another war brewin’,” clang, “and there’ll always be men and women in need of protection,” clang, “and there’ll always be a need to enforce the law.” Clang! “People can say whatever they want about’cha, but you’re in the right business, y’hear?” Clang! “Hey, slowdown now; it ain’t the number of swings, but the force behind it; slow, deliberate, and powerful. Alright, go again.”
Rukifelth took a deep breath. With each strike of the hammer, he felt a sharp tingle run up his arm. He thought about how he could cast Aether to enhance his strength and stamina; perhaps he could’ve been a good smith with the little bits of the Aethereal Artes he knew, but then again, common workers weren’t encouraged to learn the Artes. Soldiers were encouraged to train their Aether as a weapon, as was most common; surgeons were trained to use the color of transmutation to heal injuries that would naturally be unhealable, but smiths, tailors, tinkers, and farmers? What did they need it for? It didn’t matter if smiths could use the Aether to enhance their strength and stamina; it didn’t matter if tailors or clockmakers could cast Aether to craft their products more quickly; it didn’t matter if farmers could cast Aether to produce a better yield of crops. Their work could still be done at a reasonable rate; not even officers of the watch were sanctioned to become adepts.
The Aethereal Artes were supposed to be known only to the highest class of Singard: commissioned soldiers and officers, crownsguard, arcanists, academical professors and scholars, the Galdic Temple’s Maiden Superiors, and the Lords and High Lords. If the common rabble could cast Aether, then it diminished its value to those higher ups; it would make them feel less important.
And this caused Rukifelth to smile. Despite their best efforts to keep someone like him down–a common human at the bottom of the food chain–he was legally allowed to cast Aether and practice the Artes all because of an oversight, and as long as the troupe was led by Captain Grisdel–a former crownsguard–that policy would never be redacted.
That was the reason Rukifelth enjoyed being a mercenary. More than any other, his being able to cast Aether was the biggest rebellion against those in power.
Rukifelth finished off around six horseshoes before Le’Seur said, “How’s your brother, Rukifelth? His sword still holding up?”
“He’s been well,” said Rukifelth. Clang! “There’ll be a smile on his face until he dies.”
Clang!
“That’s good. That’s good.” Le’Seur sucked in a deep breath and said, “Say, sorry if I’m steppin’ my boundaries here, but I here he’s courting a maiden. Is that true?”
Clang!
“Well, he certainly ain’t courting me if that’s what you’re asking.”
“No!” Clang! “I mean, he’s been seeing one of the maidens from the temple, ain’t he?”
Clang!
“Yeah, he and Emli L’Aveline.”
Rukifelth stopped to wipe the sweat from his eyes. He made his way to a small corner of the work desk where Le’Seur kept a pitcher of water for them to drink. As he poured himself a glass, he could see the uncomfortable expression on Le’Seur’s face.
“It just, I don’t know, don’t feel right, y’know?” Rukifelth didn’t. He shrugged and went back to hammering the few remaining horseshoes. “I mean, humans and elves can get along just fine, eh? I mean, look at us!” Clang! “We can be friendly, cordial, professional,” clang, “and all around polite with one another, but to be in love?” Clang! “I mean, we’re just worlds apart.” Clang! “Hey, calm down there, you’re startin’ to pound a bit too fast again.”
Rukifelth felt his heart begin to race with each pound of the hammer. He apologized and tried slowing down, but he couldn’t…clang…stop…clang…thinking…
Between the cracks, every last one of them!
“Y’know, I guess I can’t blame him,” continued Le’Seur. Clang!
I tell you, there ain’t a good one amongst them?
“She’s a pretty one, that sister, but that girl should know better!” Clang!
They think us inferior, do they?
“They don’t plan to marry, do they? I understand a courtship between them, but how could they start a family with a human father?”
Clang!
Well, I’ll show them! I’ll show them exactly what we inférals can do!
“It just don’t seem natural.”
Crunch!
The tongs fell to the floor.
Le’Seur bolted to his feet, his eyes wide in horror at the sight of Rukifelth’s hand, smashed and bloodied by a stray swing from the hammer. “By fire! Boy, are you alright?”
Rukifelth stared silently at his hand; he could see it already begin to swell and discolor. The knuckle and index finger of his left hand were completely crushed, but he hardly noticed. The pain screamed through his body, but it was nothing compared to the anger he felt rushing through his veins.
Mark my words, I’ll make all of ‘em pay!
He glared at Le’Seur, his forehead drenched in sweat, and said, “S-Sorry, I dozed off a moment. Y-You wouldn’t happen to have a bandage, would you?” It took a second for Le’Seur to comprehend what Rukifelth had asked, but once he came to his senses, he rushed out of his forge and into his home to find a bandage.
Once alone, Rukifelth snarled in frustration. He looked around the forge and felt the urge to destroy everything, to ruin that which Le’Seur’s family had built up for generations for daring to speak ill of his brother, but he held himself back. He leaned on the work bench and stared down at his injured hand.
He ground his teeth; he imagined that beast.
The Black Beast licks its wounds. It waits patiently before it can hunt again.
Rukifelth grimaced as he watched the thick oily tendrils of dark blue Aether emerge from his wound and swirl around his hand. He felt the tendrils bind his wound, cracking the bones back into place. Rukifelth began to see images flash before his eyes: blood on his hands, the look of terror in their eyes, the pleading screams, and a man standing above him with his face covered in shadows.
The Aether mending his wounds was not pleasant. The pain seemingly doubled as the dark wisps of Aether did their work. To distract himself from the pain any way he could, Rukifelth bit down on the wrist of his opposite arm until he felt his teeth pierce his skin. He could feel–taste–the blood drip into his mouth.
Heal yourself! This is nothing, now heal!
Rukifelth tried to stretch his injured finger, and he felt a nauseating pop as the bones latched into place and the skin mended, before clenching back into a tight fist. Once the pain had nearly all gone, Rukifelth wiped the blood from his lips with a soot-stained hand; he could still taste it on his tongue.
Once Le’Seur returned, Rukifelth tucked his once injured hand under his arm to hide it suddenly being healed. The old man handed Rukifelth the bandage, which he took and began to tightly wrap it around his hand.
“Y-You sure you don’t need a doctor, boy? T-That wound looked serious.”
“I can’t afford no doctor,” said Rukifelth, “but I’m sure Lady Liza could help mend me a bit. Why, when Emecar and I were growin’ up, there was a time I fell down the stairs and twisted my leg real bad. Luckily for me, Liza was there to fix me up, good as new.”
“T-The Maiden Superior healed you? B-But I thought—”
That she could only heal elves? Is that what you think?
“It wasn’t instant,” said Rukifelth tying a knot in the bandage. Le’Seur stared at him in disbelief, seemingly unaware of how he could react so calmly. “The first thing she did was mend the pain, then she got it set, then she had to work on it little bits every day. I tells ya, what should’ve taken more than a month to heal too her only a week. This,” he said raising his newly bandaged hand, “will take a day or two at most.”
“I-I’m so sorry, Rukifelth,” said Le’Seur. “I shouldn’t have distracted you.”
Rukifelth smiled, both to try and assure the man that he was alright, but also because it felt nice to see an elf so apologetic. “Don’t be sorry,” he said, “I’m the one whose head went wandering. Now, should we get back to work?”
“What! I can’t allow ya to work with your hand like that,” said Le’Seur, but Rukifelth shrugged him off.
“Of course, you can, just watch.”
As Rukifelth reached for the hammer on the floor, Le’Seur quickly picked it up. Rukifelth thought it surprising to see the old man so spry.
“My boy, Rukifelth, thank you for all the help, b-but I really can’t have you workin’ in your condition. It’s immoral!” Le’Seur frantically dug a silver penter from his pocket and handed it to Rukifelth. “You did a good job, really you did, and I appreciate your company. Go on, take it.”
Rukifelth took the coin, but he wasn’t sure if he even wanted it anymore. Le’Seur was a good man, he tried telling himself, just old and lost in his ways; he was from a different time, with different customs, and different beliefs. He didn’t mean anything when he said Emecar and Emli shouldn’t…
He looked down at the coin and said, “Thank you, Master Le’Seur. I soon hope you can find a new apprentice.”
“Don’t you worry, boy. There’ll always be a need for a good blacksmith around these parts. Like I said, those factories can try all they want, but they’ll never replace the heart and soul I put into my work!”
He’s a good man. He didn’t mean anything.
“Y’know, I’ve a little brother at the temple who plans on goin’ to work at the Geoffry Stables,” said Rukifelth. “Maybe I can convince him to come here instead. That’s a better trade, don’tcha think?”
Le’Seur nodded, and Rukifelth left.
He looked down at the silver penter the old man had given him. For the second night in a row, he’d only worked part of what he expected before getting dismissed and paid a single silver penter. Not a bad rate, he thought. He twirled the penter through his fingers and thought about Le’Seur’s words: “We’re just words apart; it just don’t seem natural.”
Rukifelth flexed his injured hand and ripped off the bandage. There was a small scar—bleeding a little—and his finger was only slightly crooked, but no one would ever think twice about it. After all, what were scars on the hands of a mercenary.
The only wounds that remained were the bite marks and the dried blood on his wrist. Rukifelth sighed; he needed a drink.
A little over an hour had passed when Emecar awoke. His head felt a bit better, and he could feel his appetite returning. He sat up and looked out the window, refreshed as the sun basked down on him. He rolled out of bed and grabbed his tattered marron coat; it still gave off the lingering scent of booze. After several arduous minutes trying to clean it with hot water and rose oil, Emecar thought he got most of the smell out.
With his coat still damp, Emecar decided to spend a bit more time mending some of its rips and tears. Once finished, he draped it on the windowsill to dry for the evening and began preparing himself a fresh, hot cup of tea.
On a previous trip to the market, Emecar found himself interested in some tea from the far eastern country of Fâlem that the merchant called silver cinnamon. Despite the heat, the taste sent shivers through Emecar’s body as if he was sipping on pure ice. It was incredibly refreshing, nonetheless. The Fâlemese knew their tea.
Sipping his drink, Emecar stood up and stretched out his arms and back. Now that his head wasn’t pounding, he thought he could finally enjoy the day; it was a shame it’d be over soon. He walked up to the window and stared down at the streets below, watching the children play, as well as men and women strolling about running daily errands. He spotted one child–no older than six, he assumed–meandering about all alone. It wasn’t particularly strange, some children worked as shoeshines or handled newspapers at that age, but this little girl didn’t seem to be working, nor did she seem to be an amateur pickpocket; she was different. She looked lost and overwhelmed.
The little girl nervously tried waving down a pair of watchmen who were crossing the street, and they seemed to not even notice her. Defeated, the little girl meandered away to a nearby bench and started to cry.
Emecar knew he couldn’t just let her sit there all alone. If she was lost, the least he could do was help her find her way home. He quickly made his way down the steps of his apartment building and onto the street where the little girl sat alone.
“Excuse me, mademoiselle, are you lost,” Emecar said gently. The little girl looked up at him and wiped away her tears. Now that he could see her up close, he could see in her eyes just how scared the little girl was. He knelt down beside her and said, “My name is Emecar. And you?”
The little girl slumped, averting her eyes, and Emecar bit his tongue. What was he to do? He looked around for anyone who may have been looking for a lost child, but the people walked on as if nothing were any different; just another child wandering the streets.
“Do you need help?” That caught the little girl’s attention. Though she didn’t speak, she nodded softly. “What’s the matter? Can’t you tell me?” Still nothing. Emecar offered his hand, and an idea popped into his head. “If you can’t tell me, I can take you to some people you can tell. C’mon, I think I know where you can get some help.”
The little girl trembled but took his hand. Emecar smiled, assuring her that everything would be just fine, and together the two made their way down the crowded city streets to the Galdic Temple.
Isaac and Benjamin weren’t expecting Sister Emli when they burst into the temple sanctum. The maiden had just finished her daily cleaning duties as they barged in, shouting and laughing. They fell silent when her gaze fell upon them, and Emli saw Isaac tuck something behind his back. What trouble had they gotten themselves into, she thought.
As she went to confront them, she heard another voice screaming from outside the sanctum doors. “I said give it back, you—”
Malinda quickly rushed into the sanctum behind them, and just like the boys, immediately froze upon seeing the sister.
Emli glared at Malinda, and then down to Isaac and Benjamin. “The sanctum is not your play place. What is going on here?”
Malinda stuck her nose in the air, stomped up to Emli, and said, “Sister! Isaac and Benjamin stole Shiriam’s doll!”
“Nu-uh! She let us play with it,” shouted Isaac.
“No! You two—”
“Hush,” shouted Emli, and the three fell silent. It wasn’t like Sister Emli to raise her voice, that was what Sisters Magda and Helene did. Emli turned her attention down to Benjamin and calmly said, “Tell me what happened. Please.”
“Well, uh…”
“Go on,” snipped Malinda, “tell her.” Emli scowled at her, and the young girl took a step back.
“W-We asked Shiriam if we could see her doll, and…”
Emli waited several seconds for the boy to find the right words, but when it was obvious he was trying to think of a lie, Emli said, “And what?”
“They stole it,” shouted Malinda. “They—”
“Malinda!” Emli stomped her foot, causing the young girl to shrink and back away. Emli tried to maintain her composure; she couldn’t get distracted by the children’s constant bickering. She took a deep breath to focus and said, “Benjamin, is that true? Did you steal Shiriam’s doll?”
“It’s because she hit Adel!”
Emli raised an eye. “Shiriam did?”
“Y-Yeah,” Benjamin said sheepishly. “We told her not to do it, but then she did anyway.”
“And then you took her doll,” asked Emli. Benjamin looked down at his feet, embarrassed. Isaac looked just as uncomfortable. “So, you lied to me, is that right? You said she let you play with her doll–that you asked to see it–and now you say its because she hit Adel, and you took it away from her. Am I right?” No response. “I said, am I right?”
“Y-Yes, sister,” the boys said in unison.
“And then, I find you come running and screaming into the temple sanctum? A holy place of worship and reverence?” Out of the corner of her eye, Emli caught Malinda snickering. “All three of you?”
Malinda’s smile faded.
Emli closed her eyes. What was she to do? The duty of handing out punishments and reprimands belonged to the more senior maidens, but Emli supposed with no others around, that duty would default to her.
Stealing? Roughhousing? Disregarding the temple’s sanctity? Emli shook her head. What was she to do? She looked at the boys and said, “Benjamin, Isaac; I am disappointed in both of you. I want you to go give Shiriam her doll back, and then I want you to wait in the nursery until I, or Lady Liza, come to get you, understand?”
The boys winced. If Emli went and told Liza, they knew they’d be in for a scolding, if not a spanked bottom. The boys bowed their heads and said, “Yes, madame,” and trudged their way out of the sanctum.
Emli then turned to Malinda and said, “And you: what do you think you were doing?”
Malinda sniffled and said, “I was just trying to get Shiriam’s doll back.”
“By yelling and screaming,” asked Liza. Malinda didn’t say anything. “Why didn’t you come find me, or one of the other sisters? If I’d been there, would you have gone on chasing them? What if someone got hurt?”
“I-I don’t know.”
“I hear that an awful lot from you children: ‘I don’t know.’” Malinda did her best to avert her eyes, but Emli snapped her fingers, and the little girl looked up at her. Emli wrested her hands on her hips and said, “Malinda, you are much too old to be acting this way. You’re twelve years old—their big sister—and I need you to behave as such.”
“I-I’m sorry, Sister Emli.”
She gently brushed Malinda’s cheek and said, “You are forgiven, my dear. Now run along. I’m sure Shiriam will be glad to have her doll back.” Malinda smiled, gave the maiden a polite curtsey, and then ran out of the sanctum.
Emli gave an exhausted sigh and sat on one of the sanctum benches. She rubbed her eyes after staring at the trail of dirt the children brought into the sanctum with them. She’d just finished sweeping, and now she’d have to sweep the entrance all over again.
As she stood to grab her broom, Sister Magda stepped into the sanctum entryway. She looked proud. “Very good, Sister. Excellent work. You handled that very well.”
Emli blushed; it wasn’t often she received congratulations. She curtseyed and said, “Thank you for your kindness, Sister Magda, but it was nothing.”
“You know,” Magda continued, “if you continue to keep them under control like that, you’ll go very far here.”
“I don’t keep them under control, sister, I just discipline them, same as you.”
Magda shook her head. “Yes, but they don’t respect you the same as they do me or the other sisters. When you’re around, they often behave like rambunctious little goblins because they see you as a playmate; a big sister, but not a Sister.”
Emli wasn’t sure what to make of that; she didn’t think the children treated her any differently from the other maidens. She may let a few things slip, but she blamed that on her inexperience, not because the children viewed her as a playmate like Magda said.
Magda continued: “You see, when I first became a maiden, I had a hard time dealing with the children; they walked all over me. I was too soft. It wasn’t until I got harsher on them and learned to have a firm–yet gentle–thumb to keep them under control. Strict, but fair. I see that in you, sister. If you keep up what you just did, they’ll be too scared to act up again.”
Emli wasn’t quite sure she agreed with what Magda said. Strict, but fair was obviously what she was trying to be, but the way Magda spoke about the children: it was as if they were little animals. She didn’t see them as beneath her as inferiors, but as what they were: children.
“Sister, how long have you been a maiden,” Emli asked.
“Coming up on fifty-four years this summer,” said Magda. “When I was your age, I thought I’d leave as soon as my years of service were up, but I’ve grown to like this life we share.”
“Do you remember what it was like being a little girl, Malinda’s age?”
“But of course! It wasn’t that long ago!” Magda laughed at her own joke.
Emli took the broom and began to sweep the trail of dirt by the door. “Did you fear your parents, sister? Were you scared they would punish you if you misbehaved?”
“I did,” said Magda. “Rightfully so. You should’ve seen my mother; bitter temper that one. When she got angry, she’d—”
“Did you misbehave?”
Magda fidgeted, clearly taken aback. “Oh, well certainly. All children misbehave.”
“Even though you knew you’d be punished if you got caught?”
The older sister mulled over her answer, and Emli could tell by the look on her face that Magda knew where this was going. “I suppose I did,” she said sternly.
“Then being scared didn’t stop you from acting out. Your mother’s bitter temper didn’t teach you not to do wrong, but simply what? Not to get caught?”
Magda placed her hands on her hips and said, “Sister, I know what you’re doing; I was just like you once, but I learned quickly that these children need to know there are consequences to their actions.”
“I don’t disagree with you,” said Emli, “but I don’t think fear of consequence is what keeps children out of trouble.”
“Are you saying you’re not afraid of repercussions as a grown woman,” asked Magda confidently. Emli opened her mouth as if ready to argue, but she couldn’t find the words. She supposed she was afraid, but that wasn’t what kept her out of trouble, was it? Magda chuckled when Emli didn’t respond and said, “Remember, sister: a firm–yet gentle–thumb. That’s how you keep them in line.”
Sister Magda left Emli alone in the sanctum, and Emli repeated: “A firm–yet gentle–thumb.”
She looked upon the statue of Galdane at the far end of the sanctum: The First of the Elves, the Chosen of Sindelle, and He from which all elves are descended. Did he use fear to control his subjects? Was it fear that kept the elves in line with his teachings? What did he punish them with? Death? No, it was guilt; from the earliest passages in the Galivre, Galdane is said to have told his fellow elves that without his blood and Sindelle’s blessings they’d all just be Human.
A firm–yet gentle–thumb.
Emli closed her eyes and clasped her hands in prayer to Sindelle, but didn’t know what to pray for: guidance? Protection?
She stopped, resting her hands on her knees.
“Do you even care about them, Mother? They aren’t your children, are they? Benjamin and Isaac? Malinda? Shiriam and Adel?”
Or Emecar?
“None of them are elves like you or me.”
She sighed, shaking her head. What was she thinking? As a maiden, she’d devoted a part of her life to serving Sindelle; fifty years of service to the Elf-Mother and the Galdic Lineage, to protect the longevity of Elvenkind, teach their history, and assure those that they’d be reunited with Mother in the time after death.
But what about the human children? What good did her teachings give them?
Again, she closed her eyes and clasped her hands, but this time offering a prayer to Azuhiel: “Father of Sunshine, please watch these children; keep them safe from harm. Guide them through the dark and shadow. May your light be—”
From outside the sanctum, Magda shouted, “Sister! We’ve guests!”
Emli snapped out of her prayer and hopped to her feet. Broom in hand, she stepped out of the sanctum to see Emecar holding the hand of a little girl.
“Good afternoon, monsieur. I’m glad you’re feeling better.” She curtseyed and smiled at the girl. “And who is this?”
“She hasn’t told me, but I think she may be lost,” said Emecar. “She needs help.”
Emli knelt beside the girl and gently rested a hand on her soft cheek. “Hello, mademoiselle. I am Sister Emli. Are you lost?”
Letting go of Emecar’s hand, the little girl whispered, “Y-Yes, ma’am.”
“Where are your parents?”
“M-My papa sent me to get help.”
“And where’s your papa now?” The little girl shook her head as tears formed in her eyes. To Magda, Emli said, “Sister, can you get Lady Liza?”
After Magda had left, Emecar knelt beside Emli. “Little one, is your papa alright? Where is he?”
Nervously, the little girl shuffled away from Emecar and nuzzled her face into Emli.
“My sweet, there’s no need to be afraid,” she said. She looked at Emecar and gave him a small nod that told him to back away and give the little girl room. Once he’d done so, Emli said, “You know, you’re lucky this man found you. He’s one of the noblest, most kind-hearted men in the city, nay, all of Ark!” The little girl’s whimpers faded into small sniffles. “Please, tell us what’s happened.”
“T-There’s monsters,” she whimpered. “Outside our window.”
“Monsters?” Emli looked up at Emecar, remembering what he’d told her about the fae near the slums last night, and her heart sank. “What kind of monsters, my dear?”
“Singing ones.”
Emli looked up at Emecar whose face had gone gaunt.
Sing?
“My dear, can you tell me your name,” asked Emli, “or your papa’s name?”
“M-My name is Juliet,” said the little girl. “My papa’s name is Victor.”
Emli nodded. “And your family name, my dear?”
“G-Gerhard.”
Emecar’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when she said the name. He knelt down beside her and said, “Victor Gerhard is your grandfather? Then that would mean…By fire little one, you walked all the way into the city from your family’s farm?”
Juliet recoiled from him, clutching tight to Emli’s gown.
“Sister Emli? Emecar? What’s going on? Who’s this?” Lady Liza emerged from the temple’s western wing, and the two did their best to recount the information to the Maiden Superior about Juliet, her grandfather, and the monsters outside the window. Liza turned to the little girl and said, “Everything will be alright, my sweet. We’ll get you back to your family come morning; I’m sure they are worried sick about you. As for tonight, you’ll stay here. Sister Emli, come tomorrow morning, would you escort this little girl back home?”
Emli curtseyed. “Of course, madame.”
“And you, Emecar,” said Liza, “would you and your brother protect this Galdic Maiden on her journey?”
Emecar bowed. “On my honor, madame.”
Satisfied, Liza took the little girl’s hand and said, “Are you hungry, my dear? I imagine after such a long travel you must be famished. Sister Magda, would you prepare an extra seat at the table this evening for mademoiselle Juliet, and have Sisters Lucie and Helene clean and prepare an extra bed in the nursery tonight.”
Magda nodded and quickly scurried off with Juliet to introduce her to the others. Once alone, Liza turned to Emli and Emecar. “So, what of these monsters?”
Emecar felt the bandage around his neck and said, “Madame, I believe this could be fae work. Just last night, we–Rukifelth and I–we had an encounter with some fae in the southern district. The Gerhard farm is out even further, far enough for fae to feel bold enough to attack.”
Liza seemed unphased by what Emecar had said; fae being that close to the city should’ve caused an alarm, but Liza spoke as if it was nothing.
“She said fae that sing,” said Liza. “Did these fae of your sing last night?”
Emecar nodded. “The fog rolled in, and then we were attacked by childnappers, the fae who pull their victims into Helhaym. After that is when the singing started, and I saw…” Emecar’s voice caught as he rubbed his neck again. “A large fae with four arms; it was covered in mouths and eyes, and I believe it was the source of everything.”
Liza’s eyes sank; Emli had never seen such a grim expression befall the Maiden Superior. Whatever could make a woman as world weary as Liza look like that was sure to twist Emli’s stomach into knots.
“Childnappers are often servants of greater fae,” said Liza nervously, “and this four-armed fae of eyes and mouths is the same description of the Wytch-Queen’s favored servant.”
Emli shuddered. “T-The Wytch-Queen’s servant. You mean…” She couldn’t finish. Legends told of a monster created from deepest fears and nightmares from the realm of dreams; one who could enact the whims of the wytches themselves: The Kintelgas, Stealer of Children.
The temple foyer fell silent; Emli thought she felt her heart stop, and her blood run cold. “A w-wytch,” said Emli. “Madame, there is nothing I can do against a fae like that. I-I’m still just a novice! We need to alert the watch; we need to alert the crownsguard! This could be—”
“They wouldn’t believe us,” said Emecar. He stared blankly at the floor, and Emli couldn’t believe what he’d said. They’d have to at least try, but before she could say anything, Emecar continued: “Rukifelth and I already tried to warn the watch last night, and Captain Grisdel this morning; neither believed a word.”
“Then I’ll talk to them,” said Emli. “They’d have to believe a maiden, right? Or what about Liza, the Maiden Superior herself?” The expressions of both Emecar and Liza did not set her emotions at ease.
“First things first,” said Liza, “the girl needs to be taken home, and her family warned. Make sure they are safe and secure, and from there, we can discuss things with the watch.”
Emli shook her head. “Madame, please, if this really is the work of wytches, I am not the one who should go! I-It needs to be you! You know the Aethereal Artes; you could—”
Liza shushed her. “Emli, you may be a novice, but you are still a maiden. As a maiden, it is your duty to assist those in need beyond the temple walls. I, as Maiden Superior, am sworn to protect this most sacred place and the inhabitants within; it is my duty.”
Emli couldn’t believe what she was hearing. In all of her training, she’d never expected to deal with fae. She barely knew how to discipline the children, and now the Maiden Superior was asking her to protect a family from a wytch?
“M-Madame, please. I-I can’t.”
“Life is about tough choices sister,” said Liza solemnly. “We’ll never be ready until the time comes to face these obstacles firsthand. All we can do is our best and pray that Sindelle, or Azuhiel, or anyone who will listen will help.”
“But I can’t do this alone!” Emli shut her eyes. She couldn’t imagine what would happen if a wytch attacked. She’d no way to protect them; all she could do was pray, and hope, and…
Emecar took her hand. “You won’t be alone; I’ll be there.”
Emli took a deep breath and felt his warm hand in hers. “Thank you, Emecar.”
“Sister Emli, I leave this to you,” said Liza. “With this task, I–as Maiden Superior–acknowledge you as full Maiden of the Galdic Lineage.” She curtseyed and returned to her prior duties, leaving Emli and Emecar alone in the foyer.
Emli thought her legs were going to give out, and her stomach was tied in knots. If not for Emecar holding her hands, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to stop shaking. She looked up along the temple rafters at the arcane sigil of protection: could those keep out a wytch, she thought?
“I’m sorry our night had to turn so sour,” he said.
“It’s alright,” said Emli. She calmed herself and straightened her posture. “It is my duty, isn’t it?”
“Ours,” he said.
Emli turned and looked into his eyes. How she loved this foolish man, she thought. No matter how dark or gloomy her days were, he always seemed to brighten it up like the sun rising over the horizon. She rested her head on his shoulder and said, “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet, I haven’t done anything.” He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. “But I can say this much: I promise that nothing–no wytch, no fae, nor anything–will harm you, Juliet, or anyone.”
“That’s a big promise,” she said.
“Of course, it is. Afterall, I’m a…” His words stopped, and Emli could feel his grip tighten, his fingers digging into her arms. “I promise.”
30th of Retulman, 1667 Age of Enlightenment
A new day dawned on Lionbrand. Before the factories began whirring to life or the newspapers began their printings, Rukifelth and Emecar stood on the steps of the Galdic Temple ready to go. Wearing their freshly patched up and washed coats, they were armed and ready to fight any fae monstrosity that came their way: muskets fixed with bayonets, pistols, extra gunpowder and ammunition, sabres, Rukifelth’s arming dagger, Emecar’s shield, and his newly gifted amethyst bracelet.
The temple door opened, and out stepped Sister Emli adorned in her green maiden’s gown with its gold-yellow trim, as well as a thin golden laced shawl around her shoulders. Meanwhile, Juliet had her long brown hair tied into a pair of braids that ran down her back, and her small blue checkered dress was freshly washed.
When the little girl saw Emecar, she ran up and gave him the biggest hug her little arms could muster. “Good morning, Emecar!”
“Good morning to you too, mademoiselle,” he said. Emecar gestured to Rukifelth and introduced him. “He’ll be helping Sister Emli and I escort you home.”
“Hello, Rukifelf,” said Juliet, giving the smallest curtsey she could.
Rukifelth felt the corners of his lips curl into a smile. He bowed slightly and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle. Emecar has told me all about you.” However, Rukifelth’s smile faded when he saw Liza step forward from doorway.
“Good morning, Rukifelth,” she said with her usual calm demeanor.
“G’mornin’, madame.”
“I’m glad to see you’re doing well.” Her words were so warm and kind. Despite everything he’d done–everything he’d put her through–she still spoke to him like he was her child. It made him wince, but he kept on his strongest face.
“I’ve had my work cut out for me keeping this one under control,” he said smacking Emecar’s shoulder. Emecar scoffed, Emli and Juliet laughed, even Liza cracked a smile. Seeing them all so happy made Rukifelth let out a small sigh of relief; he told himself that everything was alright, and that if there was anyone other than Emecar he could trust, it was Liza. He smiled a most genuine smile and said, “I’m glad to see you’re doing well yourself, madame.”
Emecar stepped forward and extended his hand to Emli and said, “Are we all set to go, Sister?”
Liza gave Juliet one last hug and wished them safe travels. She offered a small prayer to Sindelle, pleading for their safety and then they were off, heading westward towards the Gerhard farm.
Rukifelth was impressed with Juliet’s ability to walk for such a long time without taking a break, but then again, she’d already made the trip once before. He joked that she’d make an excellent sellsword on those long journeys they so frequently had to make, but Emli didn’t approve of the joke. She said that a precious little girl like Juliet could never be a mercenary, but Juliet thought the job sounded awfully exciting. She begged Rukifelth and Emecar to tell her stories about their adventures: about the places they’d been, and the creatures they’d seen. It made their long trip go by faster.
They told her about the time they were ambushed by a haggard of goblins, the time they had to help the village of Mathran clear a troll out of their mines, and the time they saved a group of merchants outside Farrion Crossing from a wolgorling. Juliet had never heard of a wolgorling before, so Rukifelth tried his best to explain that it was a monstrous fae, larger than an ox, with the shell of a turtle, the mouth of a crocodile, and the long slimy tongue of a frog.
Juliet stared; her mouth agape as she tried to imagine the horrible creature.
“That’s not real,” said Emli. “Don’t go trying to scare the poor girl.”
“He’s not lying, Emli,” said Emecar.
She pouted. “Well I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Neither had we until we came face-to-face with the beast,” said Rukifelth. He looked down at Juliet and spread his arms as wide as he could manage. “The creature’s mouth was this big, and it could easily swallow us in a single chomp.” Juliet swallowed nervously; Rukifelth could only imagine what the little girl was thinking. “But don’t worry; wolgorlings don’t venture from Helhaym less they’re in a swamp or marshland. We ain’t find any of those creatures ‘round here.”
“Y-You sure,” she asked.
“Absolutely, now let’s stop all this talk about scary monsters,” said Rukifelth, “and why don’t I show you this.”
He pulled a silver penter from his coin purse and rested it on the back of his fingers. Slowly, he rolled the coin between them. It was a rather simple trick, but as it flipped along his fingers, Juliet’s eyes widened.
“Wow! That’s amazing!”
“It’s not hard,” he said handing her the coin. “Go on, give it a try.”
Juliet began to mimic Rukifelth, placing the coin on the back of her hand, but constantly fumbling. Her fingers were unable to make the same fluid movements as his. Rukifelth did his best to explain the trick to her, but try as he might, the little girl grew more and more frustrated with each failure. Taking her hand, Rukifelth said, “Hold on now, just keep your fingers tucked in like this. Start slow. Keep practicing. Here, let me show you again.”
He pulled another coin from his purse and slowly followed along with her until she was able to successfully roll the coin along her fingers. After her first complete flourish, Juliet’s eyes flashed, and she giddily showed Emli.
“Look, Sister! Look!”
“I can see that,” laughed Emli. “That’s most impressive, my dear.”
Juliet smiled proudly before immediately going back to practicing.
The group had traveled for nearly two hours when they finally reached the crossroad that would lead them off the highway and through the countryside towards the farm. Emecar suggested that the crossroads were a good place to take a small rest, and Rukifelth agreed. As they rested their legs, Juliet told them just how much fun they were, and how she felt like she was going on an adventure with them.
“It’s not as scary with you around,” she said.
“We’re very lucky that you made it all the way to town, mademoiselle,” said Emecar. The little girl put on a brave face, and Emecar heard her stomach rumble. Emecar laughed and offered her a small pastry he’d brought along that the little girl devoured greedily.
After she’d finished, Juliet hopped to her feet and began asking Emecar and Rukifelth about the other kinds of creatures they’d met on their journeys such as pixies, unicorns, or imps, and if they were kind or cruel. Emecar began weaving great illustrious tales to the little girl between his own bites of bread and cheese, and while Rukifelth would interject every now and again to exaggerate their adventures, it was Emecar’s passion that enthralled the little girl. At times, even Rukifelth caught himself enamored with Emecar’s stories, and he’d been there for all of them.
“What’s the scariest monster you’ve ever seen,” asked Juliet.
Emecar shared a quick glance at Rukifelth who’d leaned back and tucked a small pinch of tacleaf into his lip. He knew what story he was going to tell. Emecar turned back to Juliet and said, “It was one of Rukifelth and I’s very first jobs as mercenaries: We were headed up to Merzel’s Field on a delivery when we were attacked by a…” He looked back at Rukifelth.
“A lycanthrope,” said Rukifelth.
Juliet’s eyes widened. “You mean a werewolf!”
Rukifelth averted his eyes as Emecar tried to explain the difference: “No, y’see, a werewolf is an occult shapeshifter—someone who can transform into a wolf during a full moon—but a lycanthrope is of fae blood; they aren’t wolves, but men turned beasts—hulking and ferocious.” He leaned back, his back resting against a tree as he pulled Juliet in close. “It was one of the scariest moments of my life, but luckily I had Rukifelth there to save me.”
Rukifelth shut his eyes; he remembered that night vividly. It haunted him horribly so, and as Emecar continued to tell her the story, Rukifelth had to walk away. He didn’t want to hear that story again.
He blankly stared down the long, abandoned road away from the others and tried vehemently to keep those terrible memories from resurfacing. He’d been so distracted he hadn’t noticed Sister Emli sneak up behind him.
“Are you alright?”
He nodded.
Emli leaned a bit closer to him and said, “You know, you’re quite good with children. I didn’t expect that of you.”
“I suppose,” said Rukifelth. “Mostly, it’s just Emecar.”
“He brings out the best in you, doesn’t he?”
Where is all of this coming from? Why is she…
“Sometimes I think about where I’d be if not for him.” He sucked on the tacleaf and spat a large globule off to the side. “Y’know, he talks pretty highly about you too.”
“Does he now?” She laughed; was she teasing him? What was she going on about, thought Rukifelth. Emli grabbed his arm and tried gesturing for him to come back and join them as she said, “He often tells me about all the trouble you would get him in to.”
“Me? I wasn’t the troublemaker, y’know. His bad habits rubbed off on me,” Rukifelth said pointing at Emecar who’d stopped telling his story. “He’s the one who corrupted me. I was a good little boy, I was!”
“Did I now,” said Emecar. “That’s now how I remember it.”
To Emli and Juliet, Rukifelth said, “It’s true. Whens we were kids, he’d often sneak out of the nursery and down to the kitchen to nab some sweets and bring them back for a midnight snack.” Juliet sat facing Rukifelth, eagerly waiting for him to go on. “Y’see, I wasn’t very good at sneaking, but Emecar? Soft steps that one. Didn’t hurt that all the sisters loved him; they’d let him get away with breaking windows if he wanted.”
“Hey now, don’t go spreading rumors about me, y’hear?”
“They ain’t rumors if they’re true,” said Rukifelth. Juliet laughed at their bickering. It made Rukifelth feel good to see this little girl laugh so warmly; so innocent. He wasn’t sure what to expect from her; when Emecar told him last night that the two of them were to help Sister Emli escort a child from the temple back home to the Gerhard farm in the morning, he was more occupied with the threat of fae than he was the safety of the girl. Then again, he supposed those two went hand in hand.
There was something about the little girl’s smile that made Rukifelth forget about everything in his life that was falling apart: money, the city-watch, the troupe; should there be any fae, Rukifelth thought, he would do everything in his power to keep her safe. He wasn’t one to make promises like his brother, but to himself he made this one.
Emli smacked him playfully on the shoulder and said, “You know what I think? I think you’re just jealous, Rukifelth. If you smiled a bit more, I’m sure the other sisters would come to like you just as much, if not more, than Emecar.”
“I don’t want to be him,” said Rukifelth. “I want to be me. I got my own share of problems; I don’t need Emecar’s weighing me down too.”
They finished their rest, and once they’d all packed up, the four started down the country road alongside a thick wall of trees that blocked the farm from wind and dust. Rukifelth got the feeling they were in more familiar ground, as Juliet began getting more confident as she’d run far ahead, ducking and weaving through the trees and brush with Emecar on her tail.
Once Juliet was far enough away, Rukifelth asked Emli, “So, Liza thinks these fae are the cause of a wytch, does she?”
Emli clutched her dress skirt. She didn’t speak at first, only staring straight ahead, but eventually she said, “I fear she could be right.” Her eyes were locked onto Juliet who was giddily playing with Emecar. “Suppose there is a wytch: what do we do?”
“Don’t know. I’ve never fought a wytch before.” Rukifelth looked up into the trees and thought about their previous encounter with the fae: the fog crept in slowly, but then suddenly it was all around them. He stopped when he thought he heard a strange rustling coming from the brush, but as his eyes focused, he soon saw it was just stray vermin. “We’ll play it safe,” he said. “Our job isn’t to slay a wytch, but to keep the girl and her family safe. From there, we…”
He didn’t know what to say; what would they do after they were sure the Gerhard farm was safe? Were they to go alert the city-watch or the crownsguard? Would they listen to them if a Galdic Maiden was their witness? He sighed; he didn’t know.
“Emecar says we can’t trust the watch,” said Emli, “or the crownsguard, but why? You’re both honorable men; why would they dismiss you?”
“Why do you think,” he said, but Emli didn’t seem to understand. “You may not see it, Sister–you’re a good person after all–but the people of Singard, especially those with power, don’t really think humans are trustworthy allies. We’re already looked down upon for being mercenaries, but human mercenaries? A couple of inférals who can freely go about using Aether with no recompense of the law; why, that’s just downright terrifying.”
“That’s nonsense,” said Emli.
“Maybe to you it is, but not to Emecar and me.
“People used to think that way,” said Emli, “but not anymore. Things are different nowadays; elves and humans are—”
“I assure you, sister that there are still those who believe such cruel things. Elves live a long time, and I apologize if this sounds rude, but many are incredibly stubborn, especially those who’ve lived more than three human lifetimes.”
Emli held her tongue. At first, Rukifelth thought she was going to swear at him, or call him foolish or childish, but something about her face looked pained, almost as if he’d struck her. She knew what he said was true, she just didn’t want to believe it.
“Y’know, there are some old timers who don’t think highly of you and Emecar being together,” he said.
Rukifelth watched Emli’s brow furrow, and she said, “Between the cracks with them, I say.”
“Quite the bitter tongue, mademoiselle.”
“Don’t think I haven’t heard the gossip about these sorts of things, Rukifelth,” she said. He could feel the bile in her voice, and he could see a fire burning in her bright amber eyes. “I hear the sisters mutter all sorts of hurtful things about Emecar and I when they think I can’t hear them. The way they see him as just my little pet, and that I’m some stupid little girl who doesn’t know any better. By fire, I can even hear some of the worshipers during ceremony utter such hurtful things, but I’ll show them. I’ll…” She sucked in a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bit at you like that.”
“Go right ahead, sister,” said Rukifelth. “No one wants you two to be happy more than me, and seeing you all fired up like that? Well, I think you two are quite a handsome couple.”
She blushed. “Thank you, monsieur.”
It was a little before noon when the thick scent of freshly picked tacleaf filled the air, Rukifelth knew they were getting close to their destination. As they cleared the brush, they found themselves standing on a large farmstead of more than fifty acres. He spotted a barn and stable tucked off nearly a hundred paces to the north, as well as several cabins for the servants a hundred east. Resting at the center of the farm, surrounded by rows and rows of tacleaf and wheat was the lavish Gerhard manor: two-stories tall with a wide veranda, dozens of windows with ornate green shutters, and a large walkway leading up to the front door.
Juliet ran ahead, eager to reunite with her family. A pair of farmhands caught sight of her and began shouting, “It’s Juliet! She’s back! Quick, tell Master Cedric!”
Rukifelth tucked a pinch of tacleaf into his lip and stared up the sky: clouds were rolling in, and the air was getting humid. He closed his eyes and whispered, “Don’t pull any tricks on me, y’hear? That’s the last thing I need right now.”