Chapter 1
Eyes cutting through the crowd, Delilah rested her leg against a crate's side, groaning as she steadied it, wincing and her breath hitching at every misstep. Slowly sinking to the ground, she looked over at her mud-caked feet and sweat-glistened forearms, her gaze then resting on the horizon and the lush forest ahead.
As she waited, pulling at her lip, the lazy thick clouds came, shadowing her, giant. Her eyes flickered, her grip tightening.
I just want to live a normal adventurer life. Whatever it takes.
The defined corners of her dress sagged as she staggered up, on one knee first, then on two, then on her rising feet. She scanned her surroundings, beginning her gentle walk across the sun-dappled meadow.
Passing lavenders tucked in a mossy hollow, her feet padded over the packed earth. She drank a potion, waiting a while before treading serenely. She clutched branch and trunk and kept abreast of the slopes and curves shaping the path. Her fingers ran across shrubs, palms felt rough bark, and eyes flitted and stopped at anything not leaf or tree.
She brushed a vine, and it itched her forearm. Her nose wrinkled.
As she climbed, the valley breeze brushed against her face. Inhaling deeply, she stood straighter, her chest rising. Then she exhaled, her shoulders falling.
Eventually, the forest divided her from the crowd, her voice melting away between the trees.
As she crossed the forest, the land stretched out to her right, forming a wide vegetated curve that edged downwards and expanded flatly into the dale cutting across the earth toward the distance. It sharply climbed at those hills but remained a bunch of green throughout, a puff-like form.
She came to an area marked by various totems, all clustering toward a place, growing denser as she approached.
At the totems' center, goblins began pouring out of their shacks, fanning out throughout the area. A scout had informed them of her.
As soon as she entered the field, her right hand shimmered with a red violently pulsing ball of magic floating above her palm.
They looked each other in the eyes, the terror in their eyes fading, as their gazes tightened and snapped to her.
Her voice jerked out. "I have already decided. Don't stop me. Whatever thoughts that you have now, shush it away. This is an important step. Do not disrupt it. I am a bulking boat in the midst of a callous typhoon sea." A torrent of flames burst from that ball of magic, from which a corona of white light then lashed out, torching the goblins and their shacks.
They pulled out spears from a cache, hurling in unison, targeting her.
She discharged a misty burst of particles, knocking the spears to the ground. Within it, streaks of purple jetted into the air, floating briefly before they launched down and slammed the ground with overwhelming force, creating a thick smog that penetrated the nostrils and choked them.
The goblins dropped one by one.
Her eyes snapped to her left, a spear shattering against a semi-transparent dome around her head. Reinforcements arrived with a battle cry and three war banners, a gush of ranked goblins spilling out from within. Their voices resounded: "No more! NO MORE!"
She cast a spell, a puff of green air flashing briefly, as snake heads emerged from her body, ghosting through the air, venomously biting, toppling, and taking out any concealed goblin in their way.
Screams and struggling forms, fallen knees, crumpled faces, weakening bodies. Her eyes brightened. She gripped her other hand hard, holding back her strongest magic until the last, most desperate moment, just as the goblins were about to get their toughest defensive spell in place. Then she shot. Zooming to them, ending their lights in an instant. Her spell hit first.
Explosions in the background, she fell to the ground, clutching her chest, her lips trembling, eyes glassy and wide, her back straightening, grimacing tightly, her hands shaking, head jerking aside.
She collapsed.
The earth hugged her, warmth, its tight grip on that string from which her soul dangled.
She fell asleep, colors swirling behind her eyelids.
Within her mind, the world stretched out before her, a land of opportunity, a place of endless wisdom.
A sanguine fullness in that lost-in-the-moment expression, as the sky wielded its devasting sword against this tawdry land. She was a current, a medium of its design, a lover's apprentice, a harp strung, a quintessential being of unknown devasting light. Terror was a name, and her name was simple, the pourer of drinks, the ender of a sole thing, that essence of a being that she was. She would guarantee it, tooth and nail.
Later waking up, her lids opened, eyes vacant for a while before shifting slightly, restlessly. Need to go home, don't want to be out too late. Need to follow code.
She got up, hands on her legs, feet planting firmly on the ground. Damn it. How long was I out?
Having lost some volume in her hair, she plucked at her bangs, thrusting a few straggling strands over the ears. A frown hid behind her closed lips. Shit. Fuck. Shouldn't have gone that far. I really didn't hold back again. Shit!
With a few steps, she paused. She turned her head around, her eyes skipping from bush to bush. Taking out her blade, she already closed her hand around its handle. After her eyes travelled the whole area, she gave a sigh of relief, playfully pointing the blade forward before throwing and grabbing it midair. She kicked up her legs, turned on her heel, and stalked out of the area.
Jerking her interlocked fingers in and out of each other, she took the same path, though skirting the area. The totems from earlier grew sparser the farther she went from their center, and eventually, she reached the end of Manickee Forest. From there, she left and got back to town.
When she arrived, a river of people, a sea of faces, flowed through the streets. She stopped at a shop and entered its awning's shade with an open coin pouch raised. A helmet shimmered in her eyes, her finger already at it, as other customers walked away, hands closed around their purchases. She watched them, eyes shifting sideways, and by the time she looked back, her transaction was done, the shopkeeper shooing her.
She drifted from under the awning, ambling over to a shop with a potion sign. On this side of the street, quiet chatters, hurrying travelers, and box-carrying boys streamed past her. She popped in through the door and settled close to the corner, eyes fixed at the door behind the counter. Its wooden hinges screeched open, a man coming out, carrying a rack. He dropped it on a side table, his gaze sweeping across the room, stopping on her.
She said, "Hi, I'm here for a strength pot." She rubbed the sides of her mouth, looking aside. Hopefully, I'll be able to take out another goblin group today. If I can't find one, I'll just have to stop today. I already did a lot, and I know I shouldn't do too much, but if I don't do this. I won't be able to get tomorrow's work with Jason done. Dang it, this week's fucking tough.
A nod from the potion seller. "That'll be 50." She thumped the amount onto his hand, chugging the potion immediately. Thumbing through the stack of bills under the counter, the man settled back, chin resting on his fist, his gaze traveling the length of her arm veins.
She licked the dregs clean, her arm briefly but intensely swelling. She glanced back at him. Nodding, he pointed at someone else further inside before giving her a thumbs-up, ending the transaction with the customary smile-and-nod.
Wiping her mouth, she started out the door, marching down the steps, foot hitting the road that led to the city gates.
She trekked from the gates to a forest edge, entering a twisting path. She passed over hill and dale, losing sight of the city.
The opposite end of the forest soon came into view. Here, she sat on a large stone, feet drawn up on it, her arms crossed over her knees, chin resting on top.
She glanced down. A goblin's body lay on the ground, flies fluttering on it. When a fly wandered near her, she swatted it.
As the smell wafted, she dug her fingers into her calves, taking a breath with a hand over her nose, wrinkling. A trickle of sweat edging off her leg, she stood up and hurried away, her gaze drifting to the distance.
Animals grazed nearby.
After sitting down on another rock, she watched them come in and out of sight as they passed between the forest gaps.
As soon as her shadow angled noticeably, she sat up straighter. Her back rose first, hair draping her shoulder, hands patting the dust, dirt, and woodsmoke off her dress. She began tying her hair, standing up, the hair tie nipped between the lips. Before striding down the path, her legs shifted slowly.
She eyed a new forest edge, advancing, as tree branches slowly wound around her. She vanished within, making a gap, people's shouts slipping out from within. Okay, game time.
In the Manickee Forest, a goblin stared from a corner, her open hand jutting out.
Spears flew, leaving faint crimson trails. Human adventurers dropped, making her squeal, their heads slamming the ground as shield pieces flew. Getting off her haunches, she pranced up as goblins appeared out of the woodwork.
Meanwhile, from the shadows, Delilah's eyes flared, a scout's body lying behind her. After counting the goblins and double-checking the remaining bushes, she got up an iron-bound hardened earth prominence. Her hands raised, she blasted them. Fuck yes!
The blasts of white air struck like artillery shells. Exploding on impact, they caused disarray in their ranks and an eventual rout. The more the goblins scattered like runoff into the wider, surrounding, thick foliage wall, the more she hurried her attacks.
After doing a full turn and eying every possible spot and angle, she dropped in, brushing aside the damp hair over her eyes.
She stopped at the corpses and stared, taking a deep breath.
Knee pressing the ground, her dress ends draped it, hands sliding under folds and wraps, rummaging and plucking items out. She nudged them aside, into a pile, gear clinking underneath, smelling of road grime, leather, old campfires, and mud.
She rubbed her wet forehead, her sweat dripping on several faces.
After getting everything, she nabbed a large bag and set it on a wagon, placing the items one by one inside, her eyes lingering on the hill woodland edge.
She brought her arms to bear against the side and rear of the wagon and eased it into motion, down the gentle slope.
As the wagon trundled out of the area, she passed over the corpse of the goblin squealing earlier, its face mangled.
Once she reached a good distance, she set the wagon aside, the wheels squelching and slurping muddily to a stop, lumbering away, head lowered. As rain wet her head and hands, dripping from the tree tops and shrub edge leaves, she wiped her face.
As she got wetter, her mouth and throat dried up. She swallowed her saliva, tasting the blood from her dry lips. Opening her bag, she took out a waterskin and chugged it, sweat dripping down her eye, blinking hard.
She looked at the horizon. OK, we're done here. I'll just get the bag tomorrow. Too heavy.
When she returned to Mori Town, she travelled along and around the main road, passing junctions that led to broader humbler backstreets. These man-sized junctions mostly ended in disappointingly abrupt turns, but sometimes offered slit glimpses of street life: taggers and runners using the street's entire width, a common eatery, and a local table where older men sat. She smiled.
That faint smile playing on her lips, her feet pattering inside, she entered a bathhouse, paying, undressing, and finding a spot. She scraped off the mud between her toes, squeezed her skin, and rubbed the smudges thoroughly off her soles with her palms.
After putting on clothes, she left, traveling a good distance, entering a shared lodge, the day drawing to a close. Hah. Finally. Thank god we got this over with. Okay, Jason's request next. Please don't be late...
She thumped her head down on the pillow, soon falling asleep.
She stepped out next morning, hand over face and fringe, the rest of her sun-lit and breeze-hit, dress and tresses fluttering. Okay, first, teamster.
The streets already stirring, she hired a teamster.
She returned to Samyan Forest with him and his wagon, took the loot bag off the wagon that she set aside here yesterday, and placed it in his wagon.
When they returned, she paid him and said, "Okay, good thank you."
After waving goodbye, she flagged down a pushcart porter and had him carry the bag to the Harti Adventurer Guild offices.
There, she signed a few forms with her thumbprint before leaving them with the bag. Okay, now that that's done, pier next.
She travelled by late afternoon to Jandem Pier and rode a wherry across small Eiti Lake, setting foot in the coastal Great Dale. Great. We got here early. Since we're already here, let's just have a walk.
Fingers on her brow, she strolled past groups of men and women, each in an outfit specialized for them alone.
She looked up. Roars boomed across the land.
As she guessed the roars' origin, she overheard a woman saying, "Well, I can finish up by tom, but we'll see. The newbies haven't gotten their plates yet, so we'll just have to wait for that."
Delilah's eyes became still for a moment. Then they gleamed. I still have time. Let's see what they're doing.
The newbies the woman mentioned soon appeared, dashed up, and saluted their seniors, hands dropping to the hips. Nodding, the seniors walked past them, tapped them on the shoulders, and led the way.
Delilah's head popped up behind them, staring, far in the distance, as if tucked in a gap between their heads.
The seniors and newbies tramped off, as she closed the gap.
Her ear twitched. A bell was ringing. She stopped, cocking her head toward it.
She sniffed. The smell of bread wafted out a nearby bakery's door. Haven't eaten here yet. Let's try it.
She began walking over to it. In the meantime, she reordered her bag, moved money up, unfolded a cloth inside, and laid it flat over potion and blade, as the group's voices faded away.
Upon reaching the counter, she stuffed her bag with wrapped loaves, saving two in hand. After eating them, she rushed after the group.
Oh, almost forgot. Loren needs the helmet. Since the group was not that far away, she visited a smithy, selling the premium helmet she bought yesterday, Loren the smith giving her a knowing gesture of thanks. She got the potion elsewhere.
Afterwards, while walking, she noticed two summoned demonesses across the street with their eyes following her right before shifting to someone else. What the hell was that? she thought, moving on quickly.
The streets in front of her stretched out in a series of turns, and at the end of it, she sighted a hangout of wagoners. Here, she bought a preportioned pouch filled with stew ingredients from a nearby cookshop and placed it on one of the wagons. She waited alongside several others, who also had pouches prepared. Eventually, the wagons reached critical mass, setting off in a convoy. Wagons carried the pouches and the wagoners' consignments and personal goods, divided into front and back, and Delilah and the rest walked on foot.
The dirt road widened, opening into their tropical world, their provider.
They encountered jungles upon jungles flanking the sides, marked by patchy bunches of shacks with at least one vendor, but mostly containing the rural locals and giving them a home, even amid the rugged dirt road regularly trod and rutted by travelers and adventurers.
They passed marshes and plains, along with distant forested mountains and farmers working the fields.
After one more stretch of drainage canals on both sides of the road, they reached Ronald Depot, a peri-urban area outside town with stalls and some official buildings. The convoy master signalled for those who had pouches to start moving out.
She and the others got their pouches from the wagon, handing them to the cooking stalls, who began to prepare their stew for them.
As she waited for her stew to finish, she eyed the large groups gathered. Today was the monthly muster. Many waited here, some days before, shuttling between this place and the city for final preparations, others two weeks before, staffing the place. All formed a convoy, this place being a staging ground, a tipping point of the town, the final stretch before the rugged unknown.
She finished her stew and came just in time, joining them as they wrapped up the roll calls, ceremony, and final inspections, departing one by one in the hundreds, forming a heavy wagon core with light wagons on the flanks. A baggage train of pack animals followed at the rear, outnumbering the people by a factor of three. Each wagon section was numbered. Each individual, even if walking on foot, was assigned a section. She was given wagon section 4.
As the convoy stabilized and she settled in, marching along neatly, she caught a glimpse of the group she was tracking.
After a long journey, the convoy dissolved at Messi Fort, its members fanning out from this point onward. Okay, let's recharge, she thought.
Stopping by a bakery, she bought several loaves, comparing them to those she bought earlier. With a smile, Jode the baker took the opportunity to ask her to help him confirm the price range, taste, and quality.
As she was getting food, several women approached her, asking her if she knew anyone named "Martha," giving her an appearance description. Backstepping, Delilah shook her head and moseyed out, head low.
When she was finally eating, two dogs sat down near a corner next to her, heads on their legs, lying down. Stumbling up, she sidestepped away.
By the end of the day, she booked a room at an inn, dozing off there for the night.
The next day, she caught sight of the group again, this time sauntering out of an eatery. Peeking from around a corner, she stepped closer to them. In the meantime, she noticed a large group passing through in the middle of the street and quickly flagged them down. She chose this new group and signed up immediately, internally bidding the former group farewell. This was the end of her tracking hobby for now.
She and her new group formed a caravan of tens of people and departed for their next leg.
They drew up to an outpost, entered, and dispersed. When they confirmed things with each other and its garrison, they set off—burping repeatedly from their hasty meals.
They sojourned to the garrisoned Marsh Town before heading to Julie Town, a dungeon town.
Five mage-garbed passersby stopped them on the road, asking them if they had any spare potions. When one of Delilah's travel companions asked if they were willing to pay, they showed a bag of coins, making the exchange. They went over to a bush, brought their exhausted companion out, and got her to drink a potion, her face glowing briefly. But after a while, her expression returned to pain.
Seeing this, Delilah checked her bag and informed them of her spare potion from yesterday. They accepted it and had their companion drink it. After a moment, the woman's face softened, with a warmer glow. The mages thanked her and promised they would pay her back, bidding them farewell. They went on to the Great Dale, heading toward the forest.
In the meantime, Delilah's group made it to Julie Town by nightfall, disbanding. OK, finally, just need to get Jason.
After a night at the inn, she stopped by a workshop and a dungeon outpost in the morning. She purchased and wore some new accessories and registered for Jason's incoming expedition to the town's dungeon complex.
By late afternoon, the expedition began with a team meeting and some team-building exercises.
By evening, they trekked up the lit path to Julie Dungeon Complex, carrying large empty bags, stopping frequently along the way. They reached the top after over 3 hours.
At the entrance, several groups were already there, some preparing to go, others to leave.
After they entered the dungeon, they passed through a lesser used path, looking for new blood.
There, they sat down and began preparing. As soon as they were ready, they slipped through a gap in the wall, entering a tighter passage.
They passed through several rooms before reaching a junction. Here, they waited.
As time passed, nothing appeared to happen, but footsteps abruptly sounded from behind the walls.
They peeked and noticed several crags now shadowed with figures.
Appearing from behind the crags, tens of kobolds loosed bolts and fled out of sight. They backstepped and sidestepped, melting between the features.
For a moment, they exchanged fire, each side trying to maim the other.
But quickly, the fight became one-sided, as the kobolds fell to the ground and retreated.
The expedition members looked at each other before approaching, keeping an eye out in case one of the kobolds had a cheap shot in mind.
As soon as the loot was collected, the group exited and returned to town. Their numbers were enough to bring all the loot back to town with the energy they saved from the earlier mid-journey breaks.
As the group went down, Delilah and those who, like her, were only there for this expedition made arrangements to leave. Jason, in the meantime, had a conversation with her, catching up for old time's sake. Eventually, she had to leave.
Later at the wherry, she pressed her chin in thought. OK, first things first. Let's think over what happened today. I fucked up the spell-casting and used too much. I finally got the loot bag to the guild, which I failed to do last time since I was too busy looting that I forgot the time. I couldn't get the loot bag back, since it was too far. Hmm... what else? Right, we killed two goblin groups. First was excessive use of force. Second was good. Just enough to kill them off quickly, but yeah, some bodies were destroyed. Guild wasn't mad at that, thank goodness. And I finally fulfilled my promise with Jason. And that's it. I'll just send the report to the guild tomorrow as usual.
On her way home, she passed through Great Dale, looking for Loren.
Elsewhere, in the Manickee Forest, where she had previously slain two groups of goblins, one goblin survivor stared out the window, as others still unrolled leather bundles behind him.
They took out gear and placed them on the table.
"Well?" said the first, feeling the wood of a longbow for cracks.
"We're doing it today," said the second, waxing the string.
The third peeked at a crossbow's tension mechanism, oiled the track, ensured the prod was firmly seated, and attached a cocking lever.
"But you're serious?"
After grasping a staff-sling's leather pouch and cords and tracing its texture, the fourth drew the arrowheads and boltheads across a whetstone, sparks occasionally flying.
"Yes, I mean why are we even here?"
"That's not what I'm asking. I'm asking if you're ready to die." The fifth carefully aligned and glued feathers, gripping tighter than usual.
Whereas the sixth dipped arrow and bolt heads in a magical substance, the seventh carved tiny runes onto heads and shafts.
"Heh. No. Never."
The eighth pressed his fingers against each arrow and bolt, tracing his finger across its shaft and shaking it a little.
"But we're going to die, you know that right—"
"Can you guys... not?" said the third. "Focus."
The first and second joining together, they polished sling stones by hand. The third and fourth carefully arranged arrows by type, inserting them into the quivers: bodkin, broadhead, and enchanted. Once the bolt cases, satchels and pouches, and the bandoliers were prepared, the fifth and sixth handed them out. The seventh and eighth tightened staves' bindings, wiping their muted inlaid gems and runes clean.
Exiting the shack, they strolled across the distance, walking past demolished totems, caltrops, and remains of bodies, soot, bandoliers, belts, vials, gems, scrolls, and arrow shafts.
"Recite what you were practicing earlier," the fourth told the fifth. "I want to hear it."
"Callousness and cruelty," the fifth said, squinting at a piece of paper, a fine tremor in his grip. "I see it everywhere I go, my walk flanked by screaming dead souls, my indirect victims through my inaction. I fear these dirtied grimy dark-bloodied hands. I fear my insanity creeping in in broad daylight. I fear this thing that I am, that I might lose it, that I might become the entity that I detest so much—Cruelty. I fear it as much as I let him walk beside me, because I know that responsibility requires that I choose against cruelty every time. But there is an inherent desire to die, to live, to be a martyr, to receive justice and to be an agent of it."
Chapter 2
In Manickee Forest, the sounds of footsteps had fallen silent, muffled under dark purple foliage and trees. Overhead, the clouds drifted ahead, billowed, and carried a strong sense of volume and immense depth, their brilliantly white, sun-kissed tops lying over their softer lavender-gray undersides.
Delilah returned to the forest, and she stopped by a bush. Where have the goblins gone? she thought.
Her voice dry, she took another swig and then folded the waterskin and placed it back inside. "Damn," she whispered, a bead of sweat dripping down the tip of her nose. Water that dripped from foliage dampened her hair, and the wind flowed around her, blowing the sides of her hair up. Her eyes continued to reflect the blend of cerulean blue and vibrant green, as broadleaf trees surrounded her and their canopies left wide gaps that opened up into the sky.
She went out, the sides of her arms brushing against the foliage, heading back to the totems. They're all destroyed. Why? Who did this?
As she walked back, hands appeared behind her, striking and snatching her.
Dragged violently, she cried angrily: "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" She jerked her hands open, a flash of red flickering brightly over her palm, but the goblins slammed it shut, beginning to rope her hands and arms.
Repeatedly opening her palms and getting forced shut, she screamed, slamming her elbow, eyes wild, scratching at their roping hands and the end of the rope.
They stabbed and struck her, as she forcibly cast her healing spell on herself, screeching in agony. "PLEASE! PLEASE!""
Five mage-garbed passersby heard her in the distance, bolting in her voice's direction.
Along the way, they shot several goblins perched in the trees, avoiding the bolts and arrows. One goblin even laid bare a small, spring-loaded tube, shooting an alchemical vial exploding with splashes of acid and poison gas but missing its targets.
Matt loosed a magical flame, downing the goblin and watching it fall to its death.
Delilah's screams boomed throughout, growing distant the longer they stayed still.
Mimi cast a group speed-up spell, closing the gap in half the time.
When they arrived, Delilah's belly was open.
They took down the goblins one by one, blocked the counterattacks with magic shields, and darted beside her.
With potion in hand, they tugged her jaw open and poured.
Delilah said before collapsing, her eyes sealing shut, "You?"
Several moments later, the mages looked each other over, standing around the girl, her head, neck, and upper torso unharmed.
"Damn, how strong was her passive magic shield? Her vital areas are barely touched, and she hasn't even died from the blood loss yet."
A silence spread among them.
Taking out a potion and rubbing its cork, Mimi asked, "So... What do we do with her? We haven't even visited Kalakak Mountain yet."
"Hey, enough jokes," said Matt, skirting a shrub. "Help me carry her."
"Shit, seriously, how did you guys even find her?"
"I honestly thought we had Joecel track her. Why didn't he tell us she was here already?"
"I didn't need to," Joecel said, exiting the bushes. "I knew you guys would hear her."
"Hear?" Matt said. "You knew she was getting chased?"
"No, they didn't chase her. Ambush. It was an ambush."
"Huh, why the fuck didn't you say anything then?"
"Sorry. I thought she could handle them."
"The fuck. How?"
"She felt strong," said Raven, staring narrowly at his own hands. "I told him."
"Really, how strong?" Matt said, pinching both ends of a goblin's knife he just picked up.
"She can handle 15 goblins at once."
"But she was ambushed, Jo. Why the fuck didn't you say anything?"
"I'm sorry!" said Joecel. "Like I said, I thought she could handle it. She only got ambushed by 10 goblins."
"Still, she's likely a mage! Not all mages are like us, Jo."
Raven's eyes shifted to Matt. "She can."
"What?" Matt answered.
"She can handle it. But I don't know. She wasn't focused, I think."
"Really?" Matt threw the knife aside.
"I could feel her power, Matt."
"If you say so, then. Actually, you're not the one I'm mad at. Jo, tell us next time, please!"
Joecel scanned the group's expressions. "OK. I'll do so."
"Also, get a teamster," Matt said, watching him hurry off.
The rest set up camp and waited. When he returned with the teamster, they brought her to the road and loaded her on the wagon, accompanying it back to town. Once they passed the city gates, they transferred her inside a nearby clinic.
The next day, Delilah propped herself up on her hands, sweat beading her forehead. She wiped it clean, pushing her hair aside, where it clung, limp and clammy. She sniffed, and the caustic, biting medicinal aroma of garlic, onion, vinegar, and wine intensified deep inside her nostrils, causing her to exhale sharply through them and cough. As she tried to clear out the scent, her hands and arms chafed against the rough blankets, reddening mildly.
The sunlight pried her eyes open, as she rubbed her sweaty hand on her shorts, getting off the patient bed.
Her feet met the damp, cold clinic wood floor.
Father... where are you? she thought, a leftover thought from her dream. She brushed it aside, sauntering toward the exit.
Tiptoing outside, she opened the door and embraced the open air. Her callused feet soon began toasting on the sun-baked wooden staircase steps.
As she carefully climbed down, avoiding the brunt of the heat, her eyes swept over the street.
For a moment, she smiled, before she jerked a hand over her mouth, a puke threatening to burst from within. "What is this?" she asked, her gaze dropping to her garb, over her belly. Her lids flew wide open, and she inhaled sharply. Slowly sinking to the steps, she wrapped her hands and arms around her entire head, leaving as little gap as possible, her legs strewn across several steps.
Most passing gazes shot at her only briefly, but one broke off and skittered to her side. "Excuse me, Ma'am," he said, his voice snapping the air. "Are you Delilah?"
Nodding, she eyed his adventurer's garb before hearing footsteps behind her, from the stairway leading back to the clinic. She twisted her body around and saw a man walking to a halt, wearing a healer's garb. His voice dripped smoothly like honey, asking, "How are you?" She jerked to her feet and evaded them, rushing aside, as her hands ran lightly over her shorts, straightened, and flattened them out.
"I'm alright," she muttered, eyes up, the two men eying each other meaningfully.
The male adventurer backed off, bowing to her. "I apologize. I will be here. I have a message from the guild. If you want me to leave, I'll tell them you're still recovering."
As the healer's eyes lingered on her face, she wrenched her mouth open, then compressed her lips before saying, "I don't think I'll be there. Tell them I'm still... recovering." As the adventurer left, she turned her gaze to the healer. "Is there anything else?"
The healer tilted his head to one side, going oddly low. "No, you're alright... unless there's something wrong."
She suppressed a twitch of a grimace. "No, no, I just feel sick—or I mean, just bad. I feel bad. I need to rest."
He rested his chin on the palm of his hand. "You can tell me. I heard all about it. The men who saved you. They told me. If you want to talk about it..."
She cancelled her face-palming hand midway and eased it into a patting of her bangs. "No, no. Excuse me. I'm sorry." She took a step away before dropping her pretense and leaving.
She palmed her bangs gently as she walked, partialy covering her face, chin low.
Mid-way to the bathhouse, she stopped before pivoting to the lodge. Where am I? she thought in a drifting tone.
What happened?
When she was finally in front of the lodge, she looked up, as passersby surrounded her, rain pattering her face, causing her to blink several times. No. I have to ask him. She turned and left. He's the only one who can explain this.
Two hours later, she faced the guildmaster, seated inside his office, at the guild.
She quivered, eyes wide, hyperventilating, leaning sideways against the table edge. "So you're telling—SO YOU'RE TELLING ME I ALMOST DIED!?"
The door was open. The staff members were frozen in place.
"But how! HOW!? HOW did it happen, did it happen?! HOW! HOW!?"
A woman came up, one of the staff who gladly received her loot everyday for the last two years. She waved discreetly at the guildmaster, who nodded back, as she closed the door.
Delilah sobbed loudly, her eyes pooled with tears, the guildmaster a smudge of black in her peripheral view. "Fuck! FUCK ME MAN!" She screamed.
"I'm sorry. We didn't know."
"Didn't know, didn't know. I didn't know too okay?! I didn't know that they would—" She gripped the edge of the table and tried to flip it." The guildmaster stiffened his elbows down on the table.
"Well, well, well. I-I guess I'll return to work tomorrow, okay?!"
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"YES!"
"No. NO! Deli, you almost DIED! YOU CAN'T GO AROUND TELLING ME—excuse me—that you'll be going back to work if you can't even hold back your powers. Your anger, your emotions, are not fit for this level of responsibility. You know that! Code 5-4 says, 'Don't use excessive force, whether through a surge of emotions or a slip of an incantation. Never use excess force.'"
"I know..."
"You do? Then don't come to work!"
"I do, but why!? Why did it have to be me? Why did I have to be the one to be thrown out after all this time!? I did it. I did do it, right!? I did everything that I could, and I did everything YOU told me. So why... why is this happening to me..." Her voice broke.
"I'm sorry. Honestly, I don't know. I didn't think you'd be the one to break first among your peers. Dan's still at Town Hall, finishing the papers. If he can handle those papers, so can you." She found herself chuckling at his same joke. "But you're not OK," he said, "and that's OK. You can come to work tomorrow, but if I see any hint that this event affected you to the point you're not fit for duty, I'm suspending your duties until you've found a way, whether through support from friends and family or whatever, to get back on track. If you can't do that, then it will be indefinite, you understand?"
"I understand. Thank you, Guildmaster."
"Ron. Please stop it with the name."
"Yes, thank you. Ron."
"I'll be waiting. If you want to talk, not to me. I'm fucked up as it is. Did you tell Lauren already? Don's been asking for her actually, but she hasn't been back in 7 weeks. If you can find her, I will consider reinstating you earlier. How 'bout that?"
"Loren? I saw her—oh you mean Lauren!"
"Yes..."
"Right, OK, I'll get her!"
"Wait," he said. She looked him in the eyes. "Thanks for everything."
She snapped her head to the road as soon as she left the building, rushing to wherever Lauren could be.
First thing's first, gotta check the information about her. Realizing her mistake, she returned to the guild, awkwardly mini-waving at Guildmaster Ron, as she asked the counter for Lauren's last whereabouts.
As soon as she got the info, she left, heading straight to a town called "Mishack." It was far away from here, not beyond Eiti Lake. Elsewhere. She had to go by land. And she could not pass through her same routes anymore. This time, everything had to change.
Delilah stopped. "I should tell Don in case..." She turned around and returned to the guild for the third time, but in a different wing. She found him at his desk, jokily squinting at her.
"Don... Thanks for everything," she said.
Don laughed before stopping halfway, putting down his letter-opening dagger. "You serious? You dying tomorrow, Delulu?"
"No... How have you not forgotten that?"
"Sorry. How are you Delilah?"
She grimaced. "Not like that."
"Well, how are you... Deli?"
"I'm missing Lauren, and I was wondering if you'd like to come."
"7 weeks. Yeah, I heard. What you have for me?"
"They said she's been at Mishack. Last time. 7 weeks ago."
He thumbed through several documents, some bound with faded ribbons, eying their headers. "Yeah, I heard 'bout that, but what you have? Anything? You didn't go and check yet?"
"No. Should I have? I'm asking if you want to come, Donny."
He gave her a playfully disgusted look, reacting to the use of his full first name. "Yeah, of course I do, De-li-lah."
They paused briefly, boring holes into each other.
"Well?" she asked, twisting her head around, looking outside, her palm planted on the table, tapping one foot repeatedly.
"Well..."
"What?" She whipped back to him.
"Hmm?"
"Are you coming or not?"
A lighthearted grin on his face. "Sure! Why not!"
"Why didn't you say so?"
"Just checking if you're the Delili I know."
Delilah closed her eyes and covered her face before smiling. "Donny!"
"All right, all right! Shush, these walls aren't sound proofed."
"I thought they were?"
"Well, as you can see, I was moved."
"Damn, what happened?"
"Well, I skipped duties..."
"Again?"
"No!... yes..."
"Well? Are you coming! Let's go already!"
"Shush shush!"
"Donny's leaving, I'm bringing him!"
"Hey, what the hell—oh, it's you Deli, go take him. We don't need him."
"Thank you, Sir."
"Oh, Delilah's bringing you. Better be good, Don, okay?"
Don popped a vein. "Thank you, Sir." He strained his words.
"Thank you, Deli! Goodbye!"
"Bye Sir!"
Don repeated a playful goofy laugh as they walked out.
"What are you doing?!"
"What? You new here? Deli, come on, woman, you couldn't have possibly forgotten."
"What?"
He continued making that laugh. "You used to do this? You were the one who started this among us. Lauren even told you you sounded like a hyena."
"Did I...? I forgot."
"Damn it Deli. You're out of shape." He passed over a gutter.
"What do you mean?! I've been exercising—oh, I get it."
"Yeah, you OK? Still want to eat?"
"What do you mean I didn't ask?"
"You're always hungry. You're not?"
"No? I don't know. Was I?"
"Well, maybe." He pointed at an eatery. "Come on, let's eat!"
"Hey, we're supposed to get Lauren already!"
"Come on!"
"Damn it..." She followed him begrudgingly.
They both sat down on crude stools over uneven ground. "Two for two!"
"Hey, Deli, that you?" said a woman behind the counter, its wood coarsened by time, a patchwork of ingrained splinters.
"Hmm? Oh... Hi Ms. Martha."
"You still haven't stopped that adventuring. I told you guys not to do it. Now look what happened. Now, we don't have customers because you kids aren't visiting anymore."
"Ms. Martha, she isn't here to talk about that."
"Well, I don't care. I still don't understand—"
"You're right... I shouldn't have..."
"What are you saying, Deli? Cheer up. We're getting Lauren, and you're coming back. Chill, chill!"
"...I don't know."
"Of course you don't know. You just went through that. Sorry, Ms. Martha, did you hear?"
"No, what?"
"Nevermind... Deli, please, listen to me. You have to get this done, sure, but don't start thinking you're only here just to get back that role. The thing is that it always belonged to you. But you have to realize that what we're doing here is important too."
"What do you mean? Who are you? When did you start sounding like...?"
"Well... I learned a lesson or two from my time in that boring, old office. But seriously, Deli, tell me. Are you here to get back your role?"
"Yeah... I guess...?"
"Come on. Stronger than that. Tell me."
"I don't know. I never thought about it. But I am going to get it back. Yeah... I'm gonna do that."
"Deli..."
"Hmph, food's getting cold. Don't know what you guys are on about, but if you're wondering whether to quit, quit. If you don't want to, don't quit. I'm not here to tell you what to do. Delilah, here, have two more servings. That's on me."
"Ms. Martha, why did you—how about me?"
"None for you."
"Oh come on!"
After they finished eating, the two left the mixed scent of bubbling stew and the damp earthy smell of the space, and Delilah asked him, "By the way, I only told you of this now, but do you know anyone who knows the way to Mishack? It's through here." She showed the map the guild prepared for her, making a line between this Mori Town and Mishack Town.
"I know more than a few. Come here. Let's go."
They went to a poorer side of the city, the place she never really visited, except in her childhood, passing by a plethora of potted plants.
"Guys, guys," Don said upon walking up to someone's porch, the door open. "Well? You miss me?"
"Don. What the fuck are you doing here? You think you have a place here?"
"What?"
"I'm just kidding, man. Loosen up!" He hugged him.
Don glanced at Delilah, who secretly chuckled at him.
"Well?"
"I do miss you, man. What are you doing here? Need help. We'll be there if you need any."
"We need directions. Or if you want, you can come."
"Can't." He made an X with his arms. "I mean, I can give you directions, but not me. He'll do the coming." He stepped aside for a taller man.
"Who's he?"
"I'm right here."
"Sorry," Don said.
Seeing his genuine apology, he shook his hand firmly. "I'm Sven, son of... well... my father." He stared, waiting for someone to laugh. "OK... anyway, I'm Sven. Been here for two days. And I'm actually a traveler just couch-surfing. If you need help, I can give it. I'm actually headed there right now."
"Hm? Where? Mishack? We didn't even say anything."
"Yes... Mishack. I'm coming with you.
"OK. Who's he?"
"I'm right here."
"I know that, but who are you?"
"I'm..."
"Yes, yes. But why this guy? I thought we were friends, Mateo, but you have me escort this guy for free? No way."
"Sven," Delilah told Sven as Don started ranting to Mateo. "What's your height?"
"15 inches."
"???"
"14."
"You can't count?"
"No, I can. I just can't read inches. But I'm probably 15 inches. Probably."
"But seriously..."
Sven stared at her, waiting.
Delilah sighed. "OK. You're probably at least 7-foot-tall. Is he?"
Don paused his rant and looked at her. "What? 7 foot. Of course he is!" Then he resumed ranting.
"Well, this'll be a while."
As soon as Don and Mateo reached an agreement with Sven and they got the directions, the three left.
Sven spoke first, "Well, what a trip, huh?"
"Indeed, Sven. Your name's Sven with a V right?"
"Yes. How about you? Are you Delilah with an 'I'?"
"Yes... Do you know anyone with any other letter?"
"No. Just... making small talk."
"You're surprisingly aware of what you're doing, aren't you, Sven? The effect you have on people?"
"What do you mean?"
"You act dumb, but you actually know what you're doing."
"What?"
"What?"
"Huh?" Don said, pointing at the bridge as soon as they reached the main road. "Is that new!?"
Delilah frowned. "It's been there for 2 years."
"Huh!? How long have I been out?"
"In you mean."
"Yeah, damn. I really didn't go out that much in 2 years, huh."
"Yeah, you haven't. I even asked you~"
"Enough of that. Sven, play a song for me. You can do that, right?"
"Play, I have no instruments."
"Play right now!"
Their chit-chat continued on for two hours, and by the end of it, Delilah gave the other two a glance, her eyes catching a distant flash glinting off a watchtower. The shadowed highway they were on filled more and more with travelers from all walks of life, while locals on both sides of the road watched idly from their doors and windows.
Ahead of them, the city gate rose, its colossal stone pillars and walls carrying their voices through, past, and around, the volume in the space forming a stage of sounds and sights. They inched through pockets of chatter, the faint hum of dirt being trod underfoot, clothes rustling, and the sky forming a dome around this bubble-world. Within it, Delilah ducked under a merchant's arm with a bucket in one hand and several small tickets in the other, passing under him. Close to her, Don tiptoed, peering over at the simmering cauldrons along with the sizzle and pop at the stalls. Behind him, Sven stared at a group of armored men within the crowd, as stalls hawked their wares at them, with the two armored men who clattered off to the stalls drawing a shouting of orders between the stall staff. He swatted a fly, stepping over leftover food and bones on the ground, the organic scent mushing together, protecting his head as drips fell from a puddle of rainwater on the awning above, his eyes passing over gruff demeanors and gazes and the varied attire of common folk, travelers, adventurers, and merchants and stopping only at dogs and small animals sniffing around for scraps. An aromatic steam from a cauldron rose nearby, as Don ate a savory, creamy, and chunky soup. Delilah, in the meantime, watched a minstrel and a busker trying to make coin.
"Guys..." she said as soon as they got together again at the other end of this throng. "Do you guys know this place? Seriously."
"I don't know," Don said.
"We'll just have to see then," Sven added.
From the city gate, they travelled northward.
By the time they reached the road, they were set to encounter a group of kobolds skirting the area. These kobolds had just arrived, peeking out the bushes to scan the road.
"If we get caught here, we're doomed," said one of the kobolds.
"Well, we won't get caught them!" said another.
"But that's the problem... Look!" said the third. "Who are those three!"
Meanwhile, a distance away, Sven's eyes narrowed, a blade in hand.
Delilah and Don were laughing over what looked like a weird face in the tree.
Sven dropped his blade.
The two behind him looked over. "What was that?"
The kobolds a distance away in front dropped their weapons as well. "We don't want to fight," one of them said.
"Me either," Sven said. "Let's pass each other in peace. You may go first. If you need a way to determine that we are not going to corner you, then I will write a contract here and now that I will not let myself or these two to stop you." He wrapped a mana string around his left wrist, creating a binding contract, sealing it. The kobolds on the other side did the same, validating the contract.
"Thank you, thank you." The kobolds rushed for it, entering the other side of the forest edge.
"We... good?" Don asked. Delilah rubbed the side of her head since she saw the kobolds entering the forest.
Sven nodded, the hum of the road and nearby forest thrusting them forward. "Let's go."
She and Don exchanged looks. Who is he?
Can we trust him?
"Sven, are you cool?"
"Cool?"
"With us, I mean."
"Yeah, we're cool. Why?"
"You honestly scared me. What was that? I didn't know you could do that."
"Yeah, it's pretty easy. Let me show you."
"No, not the contract. I mean, you talking to the monsters."
"Oh, that's just me having to avoid fights with monsters all the time during my travels. Most of them were willing to do the binding with me, as long as I dropped the sword."
"Sword?"
"Oh right. This thing isn't a sword anymore. It used to be one, but I downgraded. Anyway, let's pick up the pace." He started jogging. "Talk, to, me, on, the, way."
"What do you like?" Delilah asked.
"Cloudberry Tart."
"From where?"
"High altitudes. You'll see it around the Sepukki Mountains."
"Around? On the ground?"
"No. Just up there at the top. Not that high. You just need walking legs."
"You mean years of experience."
"Yeah, that."
"How about favorite... hmm... I'm thinking..."
Don interjected, "What's the strangest thing you've ever seen on your travels?"
"Hmm. Dogs. Cats. They're usually the strangest thing since I never see anything not crazy."
"Makes sense."
Delilah finally thought of her question: "So, what's something you see all the time that you consider perfectly normal?"
"Monsters. All kinds. Kobolds are common, but if you really want something rare, try Vorlag."
"What's that?"
"Powerful. Old."
"What does it look like?"
"Don't know exactly. I would compare it to a giant bubbly thing."
"Bubbly?"
"It's so huge you never really see what it looks like as a whole. And it isn't stopping for illustrations either. But there are illustrations. You never really see them 'cause they're so rare."
"That's the strangest thing you've seen?"
"The most normal thing. You have that every week when you're out traveling."
"So what?" Don said, eying Delilah. "Should we expect anything like that?"
"Yes. Here's one now."
"What's that?"
"A blob-dog."
"HUH!?" the two exclaimed.
"How much do those cost?" she asked.
"None. They don't sell these."
"Really?"
"Well, some do buy them, but most of the time, you find them anywhere enough people just get them themselves. If you really want to make money, you're better off being an expert in blob-dogs."
"Really?"
"But even that barely makes any money"
"Dang it."
Sven smiled. "I'll answer one more question, and I'll ask it myself:
"What am I here for? Why am I here with you two?"
"Well, let me answer.
"I want to see how well you guys do. If I can help you, that's all I need. I like going anywhere possible. Whatever it means. Wherever. I'm very old. Older than I look. So I just like people wherever however. Just don't tell me to bring people back from the dead. That's a no-no."
"WHAT?????"
They were going on a long trip, and they would discover all kinds of things along the way. But they didn't think they would discover something this big this early. Maybe, with all the strange things that he mentioned were normal, he was the strangest one of all.
Chapter 3
"So what's a pineapple?" Delilah asked, skirting the bushes and scanning around her, more intensely the tighter the vegetation got to the road. Behind her, Don panted, raising his legs over the growth stretching and creeping over and along the road.
"It's not an apple," said Sven, the one in front, eyes traveling the forest floor and stopping at anything flat and empty.
"Pine?" She glanced at Don, who slowly caught up.
"Not that either."
Delilah asked Don what pine was, but he told her he didn't know.
"So it's yellow," she said. "But why is it called pineapple?"
"Well, no reason," Sven said. "I mean, there may have been, but I don't know. I'm not that old, and even if I am, I was not literally everywhere seeing every single tiny thing. Who knows why they called it that."
"OK then. By the way, are you seriously 10,000 years old?"
"Sure I am, but for... 500 years of my lifespan, I spent my life alone. Or lives. I had multiple lives. I didn't die, but I did exist in a way that felt very much like each chunk was a distinct life."
"Alone? For 500 years."
"Yes. For the rest, but I spent around a third of my time almost alone or with very few people."
"So what did you do? Why are you even here?"
"Well, that's an interesting question, because I can't answer that. I just am. I'm here. I exist. Nothing else to it."
"What does that even mean?"
Sven sniffed, glancing between the two. "Anyway, both of you kinda smell. You guys didn't even bother to take a night's rest before coming along?"
"Oh. Yeah, I was just so in a hurry that I forgot."
"Why don't we take a shower? Come here. I'll open something. Don't be too surprised."
Sven knelt down, placed his hand on the ground, and magically instantly created his dimensional grotto in it, beginning with a staircase leading inside.
"What's that?"
"Just come in. This is how I can travel so much."
"You said you were couch-surfing."
"Immersion, Delilah... Is it OK if I call you by your name?"
"Yeah... Wait, where are you going?"
"Come in. It's a cave room. You can take a shower here." He glanced between her and Don. "Both of you."
They went down a staircase before arriving at a strange room with passages that led to endless darkness and walls and surfaces that were perfectly even, black, texture-less, and smooth. Sven followed them inside and directed them to a door, calling it the "shower room." When they entered, it was a perfectly square room. Don went first, before her.
While the first room carried over the feel of the rainforest, the shower room severed the jungle drone, leaving out the sounds of the body chafing and his internal body bubbling, gurgling, and streaming. Hiis ears plugged tight yet sharp and naked, straining to hear yet showering in void. His skin prickled with a coolness, and the humidity and temperature suddenly shifted into a consistent blanket across his entire skin, all over his body, excising the naturalism of all places he had ever been to. The forest's scents were scrubbed bare, while the pungent scents of his body remained, striking his nose and choking it with heightened back-and-forth irritation. When he ran his fingers across the wall, they slid off, so smooth and gritless his skin assumed a phantom scratching sensation to compensate for decades of lived experience. When he gulped, his throat swallowed itself, the sound of its internal muscular movements penetrating the room like a bridling scourge. Reality collapsed, forming an incessant loop of organ-specific functions amid the flourishing, nourishing shower rain.
When the two finally dried themselves and changed clothes to the ones Sven offered them, they followed Sven outside. He then snapped his finger, and the grotto instantly disappeared, leaving no trace on the cliff wall, as if it was never there. The two darted him a look before he said, "OK, no more questions. Let's get back on the road."
Delilah stared at the ground as they walked, giving Don sidelong glances, her brows furrowed, mouth shut. In the meantime, Don took out a stone bread and handed one to her, nursing his own for the journey, struggling to bite it.
From here, following the valley of Redbite Stream, they crossed the Swordstone River, and approached the "Standing Stone." This was a prominent landmark of the region, and stood on the right bank of a stream of the same name, near the present town of Manggaville. It was about 14 feet high, and six inches square, and served as a kind of travelers' guidepost for that region. From this point, the trail followed the Swordstone Valley, coinciding for a short distance with the line of the Solem Convoy Highway, but turning off on the Mori branch of the Swordstone at the present town of Dangnine.
There was also a second trail, still farther north, by way of Shumen and the west branch of the Tritenoose to Voluable. This was their route.
After eight long days of dust, weariness, and barely opened mouths, they reached Petersburg, being still a long ways from Mishack.
Among lobed sun flecks filtering through overlapping patterns of greenery, Delilah and Sven entered an inn, the door whirring closed. Don told them he was going to inspect the area first.
Passing by the pleasant expressions of seated strangers, Delilah then straddled a stool, and as soon as the food arrived, she feasted, stuffing her face. Sven stood at the counter and began booking their rooms, holding the money they'd given him.
As she was taking another bite, she covered her mouth, stood, and hurried upstairs into her room. After slamming the door shut, she got down and retched. She almost puked. After the urge went away, she pushed back from her hands and knees and settled on the ground, tucking her legs to one side, panting with an open mouth. What am I doing? she thought. When she heard the main door open and close downstairs, she took a deep breath and said, wiping her mouth, "OK, this has a particular difficulty that I'm not completely used to."
As she walked back to her table, Don, who had just entered, saw her clammy face and sunken eyes and said, "Bro, why the fuck did you eat so fast after you just got back?"
She flumped down into the stool, barely acknowledging Sven. "Yeah..."
Don stopped smiling, pressed his lips, and then said, "Let's wash up. We're looking like saggy blob-dogs." He grinned again and sauntered away.
After taking a moment to scan the room, Delilah got up and strolled behind him, Sven eying them as he drank.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"To the bath," Don said.
"In here?"
"Yes, there is one."
"No bathhouses?"
"None. I looked, and there was none."
After they took a shower, Delilah asked him, "Don, I was wondering..."
"What?"
She pressed her back to the wall, now half in shadow, and observed the room. "I don't know."
Don looked left and right, then hunkered down opposite of her, leaving a gap in the middle of the hallway. Meanwhile, covering a silent burp, Sven passed them and raised a brow, his eyes drifting over the two of them. Waiting for him to enter the bath, she gave a small shrug.
After he inched the door shut, she sighed. "Well... Can I ask?"
"Go." Don kept his gaze to the wood floor.
"Honestly, like, I spent the last how long walking, and to be honest, I don't know. It's just... How long... how long should I keep doing this?"
"What, what?"
"I don't know. We're supposed to find her right. But to be honest, I don't know what I'll do after... that. After coming with you guys here, I just don't know anymore. It feels like maybe, I was wrong about everything, wrong about... my job, and wrong about... everything. For some reason... I don't know. I want to go back, but... I don't think there's anything left for me there."
"Are you serious? Why?"
"I don't know! I just... I don't know... I want to know. I want to know why... I even spent those years doing all that. Why 2 years? I feel like I wasted my time, maybe. Or something. I don't know. I just feel that there's something off... something really, really strange... about all of this. Like I'm not thinking straight, or I wasn't thinking straight. I feel like maybe... this is the craziest thing, but yeah, for some reason, I feel... This is what's happening. This is what's here right now... I can't stop myself from thinking that something's off. What are we doing here? What am I doing? What have I been doing?"
"Deli, I don't know. I can't answer that. Not for you."
"But what should I do?"
Seeing that Don allowed the silence, she kept her eyes averted. "Who am I? What have I been doing all this time?" She noticed several passersby and waited them for a moment before taking their conversation outside.
"I seriously..."
"Deli, I didn't know. I didn't know, or when did you realize?"
"What do you mean 'when did I realize'? I spent those two years thinking this and that, and you know what? I never... I don't think I have a problem, or at least that was the right thing right? Like I, I was sure, that it was... and it's not that it was wrong or that I think that it is all bad. I just think that what I am right now, what I feel, what I think, what I have in my mind... I feel it is... It has something to say... I don't know, fuck."
She looked for a while, before her eyes widened imperceptibly. "Maybe, I made a mistake. I should get back. Let's get going. We're going to go home. I was just, I don't know. Maybe, I was just feeling a little off. Yeah, let's go. Yeah."
Sven opened the door, stepping out before standing still, watching them walk up. "Let's go?"
"Yeah, let's go." They continued their journey to Mishack, their original destination.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Interlude 1
Beginning her day in her home city before her journey across Eiti Lake to the Great Dale, Loren the smith sat down, watching her reflection. Using two interlocked hair ties to secure a tight bun, she sauntered into a clear space as she raised one foot, jerked its leg down, and halted just short of the ground, alternating between left and right, stretching her suspended toes, feet, and hips and lower back. She raised her arms overhead and edged them back, cracking her back's middle. Holding her waist's right side, she twisted her torso right and backward, doing the same for the left. She pressed her hands' backs against the top of her buttocks, advancing her lower body and pulling back her torso, creating a bend. Standing on one foot, she raised her other leg and made various rotations of the leg's hip and knee joints. She did many more variations of all these movements, incorporating modifications such as a wide stance or doing them on one leg.
After returning to her smithy and working throughout the day, she sat down with one leg crossed, her knee pressed against the edge of a tabletop. A customer went over, brows raised and glancing around. A sweat dripping down her brow, she pointed at the several finished gear before her eyes returned to her fingers, rubbing them together, looking around in thought.
The customer got the gear, passing someone faster than him, Delilah, who grabbed the potions at the counter, then dropped coins on the way out. Loren looked over briefly before gazing at her fingers again, as 3 of her fellow smiths worked behind her deeper inside.
Forging a socket out of an old wrought iron wagon tire, one of them started with wrought iron. He drew a line near one end and filled it with diagonal lines with a chalk. After heating the iron, he held it down with a chain, and fullered that first line with a straight peen hammer, hitting the hammer's head's top 10 times with a sledgehammer to form the line. He sheared this defined portion over the anvil's edge with a sledgehammer. Once he heated the remaining wrought iron, he defined its edge with a cross peen hammer's flat face. He again heated the iron and brought it to a swage block, holding it down with a mandrel, which he struck with the cross peen's flat face, causing the iron to curve. Adjusting it several times until it formed a cylinder, he inserted the mandrel and hammered it directly. He heated it entirely until it glowed yellow and resumed hammering. Ultimately, it turned out to be a corroded low-quality wrought iron bar. This would later become the spear core.
Taking a cool breath, Loren went on with the rest of the day. By nightfall, she closed the workshop.
She rode across Eiti Lake to her home city and returned the next day. This had been her life for months.
Encountering Delilah again, she asked about a particular kind of smithing material, having asked others already but seeking further confirmation. Delilah told her that it was going to be unavailable for much longer, leaving and boating home.
Interlude 2
A kobold stared. "Well, what a day we have, oh what a day!" He got up, raising his blade, slashing wagon wheels, scurrying under, right before human men arrived.
"What happened?" they said.
The kobold grinned, magically becoming invisible and creating a sound barrier around his voice. "I am the epitome of all things. Let me solve your incapacity."
As soon as he found the opportunity, he stabbed, stabbed, and stabbed. "Monster disgusting little shit. I pray you know what it's like to love someone, because YOU CAN'T! YOU CAN'T YOU CANNN'T!!!! I wanted to believe, to believe in kindness, to believe in a beautiful world. But you have shown me that there is only one thing left to do—to do the right thing."