Dark green vines crept about the old stone edifice, clinging to the eaves with budding flowers ready to bloom as the first rays of dawnlight greeted them. The previous night's rain had drenched the city in a cloud of moisture, obscuring the pre-dawn air with a light haze.
Tarron Vane rested precariously on the edge of a clay-tiled roof of an inn, one leg up while the other dangled off the edge, swaying back and forth with a carelessness that mocked the height at which he sat.
The morning air was crisp, and allowing that chilly sensation to fill his lungs sent a pleasant shock throughout his body. It roused his senses as he gazed out, watching the sunrise, exhaling softly through his nose. The haze cleared with daybreak.
The thoroughfare below was coming alive, bustling with vendors ready to earn their living. The colorfully dyed canopies of the stalls that lined either side of the wide street welcomed customers who were just as enthusiastic to begin their day as they strolled along.
Additionally, there was a noticeable rise in the number of patrols walking the streets this morning, several of which stopped frequently to talk to bystanders. A palpable air of unease suffused the city, suggesting something significant had occurred during the night. Though he was curious, he gave the matter little consideration.
As a major trading hub on the western coast of High Helm, Caisus brought in exotic goods from as far away as Alysundria and welcomed a diverse blend of visitors. Hundreds of merchants, seafarers, explorers, and intellectuals passed through the city and the port on any given day.
It was a preferred checkpoint for any traveler on the route to the distant north with its unique topography, a mix of heathlands, mountains, cliffs, deep forests, and winding rivers. A land as beautiful as it could be treacherous.
As people from all walks of life began to call the city home, it transformed into a vibrant melting pot of cultures. A sanctuary in the otherwise tumultuous continent ruled by the High Elves.
No, Caisus was not at all like the other elven cities that it bordered. It was too dirty. Too diverse. Too lively. Too crude. It had managed to pull away from the regime of the High Elven monarchy and fell under its own leadership with the new proposed law.
Tarron, just nineteen years old, didn't begin to comprehend the different elven sovereignties of Anumiel with their conflicting customs until he hit the road for the first time. In comparison to the relatively indulgent Westmure mortals, the High Helm elves had extremely stringent established rules.
While his naiveté to some of these elven regulations nearly got him into trouble in a few instances, his journey had been exhilarating for the novelty it brought, both good and bad. It had been a unique learning experience for the young man.
If one came to Caisus, one could escape the stringent laws of the Northwest. Away from the statutes of higher beings, but not entirely. Was it ever possible to avoid the judgments of obstinate people, whether human or elf? He imagined not.
Most people were predisposed to the machinations of fate as directed by this jurisprudence. Even though he wasn't a deviant, he scoffed at the thought. If fate truly existed, he would meet it with an open mind and firm conviction, not for what was expected of him, but for what was fair and just, even if oppressive laws expressed otherwise.
He glanced further out, past the twisting streets and toward the port visible from the roofs. Even from here, the distant commotion could be heard. The fisherman, porters, and sailors were all shouting about their work as they labored along the dockside. The harbormaster and pursers barked back orders and instructions. Their mingled cries became a jumbled din that traveled up and over the rooftops and into his ears.
Since his arrival, the day before, the atmosphere of the harbor had become livelier, albeit for reasons he had yet to discover.
The bay was lined with the endless white sails of ships. Their masts seemed to reach toward the clouds as if threatening to pierce the sky above. He hoped to get the chance to board a ship so magnificent one day. The only vessel he had been on was a smaller ferry, which was necessary to navigate the delta separating High Helm from Westmure, riddled with the fog-laden islands of Darkmarsh.
The vast seas were not the same as traveling through the delta, and he had a profound and impatient curiosity about what it would be like to sail on them.
Unfortunately, he was a poor young man, and poor men did not embark on seafaring adventures often. What was left for the hungry and impoverished? Grandiose tales that couldn't fill one's stomach.
Though, hunger, like most things, could be sated by money.
In Caisus, as in practically every other city one went, fortune could easily elevate you to a position of power. With such leverage, an influential one's belly, just like their coin purse, would never empty.
A noble's morals were only as deep as their coffers; the depth of character was directly proportional to wealth. He had recently discovered this concept during his brief stay in the first great city he had ever seen.
For example: when he had first arrived, he had been walking along the crowded docks and could only turn his face to a garishly dressed noblewoman as she dropped a large pouch of money into the calloused hands of an old ship captain, who smirked in return, looking around as he slipped the leather pouch under the lapels of his thick coat. It was an oddly clandestine reaction to something done in broad daylight.
He watched as that captain walked away and stopped, whispering something to an individual in a dark cloak, their face shrouded by a low-hanging hood. From that distance, even Tarron couldn't hear their exchange of words, but his ears had betrayed him and perked up to try and listen anyway.
That dark-cloaked figure must have sensed they were being watched because they turned their head in his direction. Tarron's heart pounded in his chest as he hurried away, trying not to appear suspicious. He rounded a corner and frowned as he touched his money pouch, the few coins within clinking together with a delicate sound.
He disliked money, and the money fetched by the port, illicit or not, was beyond his comprehension. A mind would whirl with desire and greed if they had that much wealth, but not his. Tarron aspired to be wealthy, but not in the conventional sense. He dreamed of a life rich with magic, mystery, exciting new experiences, and above all, the knowledge he lacked.
In the hands of the right individual, that knowledge could be more powerful than wealth.
Further north, the brightest minds could be found in all of Anumiel. He couldn't help but wonder if an intellectual mind was only as broad as the books one could afford, considering that some of the rarest and most instructive texts had long since been sealed away by mages in magical institutions, who had long since laid claim. To gain access to the plethora of wisdom housed by the governing mages' hierarchical archives, you would need to submit a form or become an applicant. That, or become a highly prominent figure which took a lot of time and money, or for some, the use of bloodshed.
He sighed as he took one last look from Caisus' rooftops. It was about that time now.
Dawnlight caressed the clouds' edges, which echoed the sentiment, turning bright pinks and oranges as if blushing from the delicate embrace. The few stars that remained in the sky dimmed, unable to compete with the glory of the rising sun.
"It's time to get going." He jumped to his feet, unconcerned about plunging to his demise into the filthy alley below; a broken neck, surrounded by excrement and trash. It would have been a terrible and tragic finale to a fairly dull life. But he didn't have many complaints about it. His life was his own, and he lived it the only way he knew how.
Clutching the edge of the roof, he lowered himself back down onto the balcony below in one swift sweeping motion, landing with a faint thud. He stepped back into the small dusty room and grabbed his traveling pack off the bed, swinging it over one shoulder.
On his journey into a world he had only read about in books or heard via whispered tales from those who passed through his little village, Caisus had simply been one stop among many.
With serendipity on his side, he prepared to start a new chapter in his life. One that he had been looking forward to; one that had been left to chance.
The door to the room softly closed behind him.
A room with people seated at worn-out wooden tables, talking and munching on slices of bread, fresh fruit, and sausages seasoned with herbs, was what Tarron found when he descended the staircase. The smell of food wafted into his nose. Because he lacked the funds and had to leave soon, he would have to skip a meal. His mouth watered at the thought of having some half-decent food in his stomach, and he sighed as he watched a man ruthlessly rip a piece of bread between his teeth. He realized he was jealously staring at the man, who then looked up, blinked at him, and took another bite while raising an eyebrow. Tarron chuckled awkwardly before steering toward the door.
Despite his resentment towards her, he paused to nod politely to the innkeeper on his way out. The elderly woman returned the smile. She lacked most of her teeth and had unkempt hair with white streaks winding up into a messy bun.
'The food is probably the only half-decent thing here,' he grumbled within his mind.
He'd spent many nights trekking by starlight in the harsh chill of the highlands. Only his coat and the rare heat of a campfire kept him warm, yet building fires could jeopardize one's safety when traveling through the north's high roads. The light could give an easy advantage to the bandits and beasts who prowled, so he typically forewent one.
He'd wake up with a damp coat and a stiff back from the chilled nights, yet somehow felt refreshed. Then, at twilight, he'd retire to a secluded grove to lie on frosted grass and fallen leaves while listening to wolves howl on the high wind. The peace he felt at the time was both familiar and new. It reminded him of home in a way.
Once in Caisus, he discovered that sleeping on the streets was far more dangerous than lying on the side of a high road. There were too many people and rodents scuttling around at night, doing who knows what in the narrow alleys nestled between the massive buildings.
Nobody seemed to care about what happened at night either, and he had to believe it had something to do with the subtle air of depravity that pervaded the city when darkness fell. The only thing keeping the horrors of the night at bay were the patrols of guards, but even they couldn't stop everything that may happen.
He'd traveled from Westmure to High Helm without so much as a scratch. It was pointless for him to die on the streets to save a few coins. Furthermore, it had begun to rain later in the day following his arrival, and he rushed through the dark and drenched streets as lightning streaks filled the darkening sky, his coat and boots sopping wet.
Tarron's features twisted into a frown as he returned his gaze to the door.
The innkeeper had been pleasant enough until she charged him an arm and a leg for the last vacant room and all because it had a balcony, a balcony with corroded iron bars which appeared to be ready to tumble off the side of the building at any time.
Not to mention that the straw in his pillows jabbed his cheeks throughout the night, causing him to toss and turn. Even his pillows at home, which he had easily made himself, had been stuffed with feathers! To make matters worse, the room was so dusty that he awoke before dawnlight in a fit of sneezing that disturbed the adjoining occupant, who slapped the thin wall in frustration. It could have been labeled a cheap money grab even by someone as unsophisticated and poor as Tarron.
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The innkeeper beamed the previous evening when he grudgingly slapped the two silver pieces in front of her, knowing the young man could only accept as he stood there soaking from the evening's heavy rain. The city was packed, with most lodgings full due to a significant surge of adolescents heading north, Tarron among them. When she noted his frown at the high price, she reasoned that luxury had a cost. Tarron was unfamiliar with the concept of extravagance, but once he opened the door to that gloomy room, he had to reconsider. It was worth a few coppers at most.
Tarron took a deep breath and stepped through the inn's open doors, the morning light contracting his pupils.
Outside, the bright promenade was congested. He proceeded along the streets, weaving in and out of the crowd as several groups of morning security patrols were conducting interviews.
He proceeded a little more slowly as he passed a group of older people huddled together, gossiping about something that happened in the night.
"Did you hear what happened?" Leaning in, an older woman had mumbled the question. The others drew near, their emotions switching between worry and excitement.
She continued, "there was a reported explosion at the dockside wards!"
A human man stroked his long white beard and expressed, "not only that. Whoever did it is still on the run!"
A third old woman with short hair sighed worriedly, "and at such an important moment for the north? Aren't all these kids going to the highland? I'm afraid things are not as safe. The guards should escort them on their way."
"Don't you know that isn't allowed?" The first woman who spoke added.
"I know, but still," she paused, "do you think they will call...him to the city?"
The old man gave an incredulous look, "bah! Like they want the mages to fix every issue? They ask for too much in return! Especially him!"
"I suppose you're right."
Tarron had heard enough and picked up his pace, curious about the explosion and whoever "he" was, but he didn't have time left to dawdle if he wanted to arrive at a decent time.
He heard raucous cheers as he passed past the abundance of stores and booths, which caused him to glance over.
He stopped despite his better judgment and found himself advancing on the gathering, his feet moving of their own volition when the interest overwhelmed him. He reasoned that he had at least a little time to see what the commotion was about.
Tarron stood with the rest of the onlookers, peering over their shoulders thanks to his height. In the center, a short elven girl waited with one palm clutching the folds of her ragged patched skirt as she uncomfortably moved her weight from foot to foot. She nervously looked around while holding a wooden hoop in her other hand. Tarron turned to her as she uttered, "ridiculous," under her breath.
The other was a tanned man with strikingly handsome features expected of an elven person of pure blood, most likely a Higher Elf. He was wearing a cropped patchwork vest, half solid black and half a hodgepodge of stitched kaleidoscopic designs, over a loose-fitting dark blue shirt.
His long legs moved with fluidity, his steps not making a sound as he ambled around the center, drawing people in with the wave of his arms. He certainly was a strange and jovial figure with an animated expression.
His head tilted back in a wide grin, shaking his rather unruly dark brown hair out of his face. The piercings lining his pointed ears tingled in time with the movement as he unexpectedly drew an antique sword from its sheath at his hip and waved it in an arc.
Tarron had started, but he relaxed when he recognized he didn't mean to injure anyone with the weapon. This was all part of their routine as street performers.
Swords did not scare him. It was that he had come to realize that knowing what some people did to innocent people with them was more likely to send him off than visualizing one impaling his gut. Regardless, he was captivated by them. They were uncommon in his village, where most were farmers, bow hunters, and trappers.
Tarron was too preoocupied with the strange elf, that he had not seen the small horned creature running in circles at their feet. When he finally did notice, he blinked twice as he stared at its horned head.
His eyes narrowed, taking in the thin translucent thread used to bind the horn to its head. That thread was probably unseen by most of the individuals in the crowd, but Tarron had remarkable eyesight for a human.
He couldn't help but lift a black brow at the tiny thing when it turned its head and locked eyes with him as if it was glaring at him. Did it realize he was aware of its farce? That was ridiculous. That implied it could read his thoughts.
There was nothing like this beast in any of the books he had read. What exactly was it? He had a strong impression of what it was trying to be.
The creature finally looked away and hurried to the edge of the crowd, making an awful hissing sound as it did so. People exclaimed and moved back.
Someone wheezed in excitement, "it-its a baby unicorn!"
The person to their left retorted, "no, look. That's full-grown...I think."
They rolled their eyes, "and how would you know?"
Anyone who read a book about archaic mythical creatures knows that actual unicorns would not look like this. The topic was quite esoteric, as unicorn sightings were few and far between.
Unicorns were believed to be so beautiful and rare that looking at one could set fire to one's eyes, searing them to dust in their sockets. If one would willingly accept you in their presence and deem you pure, you'd be lucky to still have your eyes. If this was a real unicorn, the chances of any of them still having eyes to view it were exceedingly slim if the stories were to be taken as true.
The few unicorns thought to exist were also allegedly cared for by the Higher Elves, who expropriated their rights over them, much to the chagrin of the Woodland Elves who are skilled beast masters. Caring for such a creature required ancient knowledge from equally ancient beings, and Higher Elves were the direct heirs of Anumniel's first inhabitants. Who could be older or more brilliant than them in this day and age? Nobody was, and everyone knew it. Thus, nobody argued with them over it.
Facts of Ancient Magical Beasts was one of the few books they possessed on their shelf back home, and he had read it several times. While unicorns were always represented as pristine white, this little critter had a black-scaled underbelly.
This animal in front of them was unmistakably modeled to resemble a unicorn. Albeit was uglier with its orbicular leaf-shaped head and beady black eyes. He could see how some people may be tricked by the idea of a unicorn, but this thing was just too little and hideous to be one.
Tarron suppressed a laugh. Still, he found it a bit cute.
As if sensing his harsh review of it, the tiny creature whipped its neck around to stare at Tarron with narrowed eyes.
'What's with you?' Tarron had half-asked it but did not expect it to respond, and it didn't. It turned its head with what Tarron surmised was a, 'harrumph,' and trotted back to the girl still holding that hoop and her skirts. It sat with its head turned up.
Tarron could only wonder if he had finally gone insane. To assume this little thing knew what he was thinking?
The elven gentleman eyed the beast from his peripheral, sighing a bit before he smiled again and cleared his throat to address their audience.
"Call everyone together! Come in, come close!" He waved his arms, beckoning them. With the thick intonation of an unusual elf accent, his words while beautiful sounded strange. At least, Tarron had never heard an accent like this before.
He tapped his leg twice with the blunt of his blade, and the unicorn immediately rushed up to him as if on cue.
"Never in your life will you get the opportunity to view a living unicorn before your very eyes! She is not only beautiful, but she has learned numerous tricks!"
Tarron stood there watching as the crowd roared in excitement and asked for examples, eager to see what tricks this unicorn could perform. The elf winked at the unicorn as he gazed down. Tarron almost felt the beast and their other companion behind them roll their eyes, even if they hadn't done so.
"Open your eyes," he said, tapping the ground with the toe of his boot. A circle of blue and gold runes grew from that point, becoming large before a glittering dome of stars and planets rose and twinkled about them.
"A secret world awaits!" The audience gasped, and the children's eyes widened. The elf grinned and snapped his fingers behind his back. The unicorn began to glide upwards within the dome, kicking its legs as it weightlessly turned in circles.
It curled in on itself, and a blinding white light overwhelmed the gathering, causing everyone to quickly protect their eyes. When they blinked the spots away, a large pure white flaming beast appeared in the clearing ahead of them. Its vulpine face gazed confidently out at the awestricken crowd. Tarron squinted his eyes, searching for the transparent string that had vanished along with the horn.
The dome disintegrated into a cloud of fine glittering dust, which slowly fell to the earth and evaporated.
"So... it isn't a unicorn?" Someone in the audience had inquired. Tarron too had been surprised by the change.
The creature paced in elegant circles while the elven girl stepped forward, holding the hoop, which was now far too slim for the thing to fit through. Despite this, the creature backed up and proceeded to leap gracefully through the hoop, its composition changing to that of a small white flaming finch once it emerged on the other side. It flitted around quickly, flying around the crowd.
"What exactly is going on here?" The cheers abruptly stopped, and the audience began to look around in confusion as they moved to make room for the unexpected entrance of a patrol.
The elven man's cheerful expression faltered, nodding his head at the small bird who flitted back behind him and the elven girl.
He painted on another grin and took a step in front of the other two, somewhat blocking them as he quickly sheathed his blade. "May I ask what the problem is here?" He inquired.
A half-elven guardswoman approached with her hand resting on her sword at her hip. "You. Where are you all from?" She inquired, apprehensive of the peculiar elf in front of her. Four additional guards waited behind her. Some of the mob had begun to back away in concern.
"We are not from Caisus if that's what you wish to know." He stated calmly in reply.
She shifted her gaze to the little bird who was just visible behind the man. She directed a nod at it. "Did you register that beast when you first arrived in town?"
"I did not," he replied honestly.
"Unregistered magical beasts are illegal in Caisus," she said back with a contemptuous expression.
He blinked back steadily, and before he could reply, someone interrupted.
"Excuse me."
The woman turned back and frowned at a young Wood Elf with beige skin and long brown hair who had made his way to the front of the queue, holding a book under his arm. His brilliant green eyes met hers with confidence.
She looked at the crowd, then at the entertainers, and finally back at him. "What do you want?" She asked irritatedly.
"The laws of Caisus allow entertainers to function without permits for creatures so long as they are nonmagical. They have not violated any laws here."
Her face twisted in anger, "who do you think you are?! He clearly has an unregistered magical beast within city limits!"
The little elf grumbled and turned to face the now stone-faced and resolute elf standing behind her. "I said nonmagical," he replied softly, then added a bit louder, "but I believe he can explain it." The Woodland Elf stepped away then, pulling the book from under his arm, reading it as he went. Tarron looked at him as he strode away, chuckling at the short elf's bravado and finding his entire speech, while arrogant, amusing.
This interaction left the officer furious and she whirled around to the performers and demanded, "well? Explain!"
The crowd whispered as they watched on.
"Would you mind?" He inquired as he took a step to the side, revealing the small bird perched on the short elven girl's head. Its flames faded, revealing the small finch's immaculate white feathers. As the bird flitted to her palms, his assistant wore an anxious expression.
The officer motioned for them to proceed with a wave of her hand.
The little elven girl extended her hand and tossed the bird into the air as the elven man snapped his fingers. When he did so, the bird transformed into a white cat in the air, landing gracefully at their feet and settling on its haunches to lick its paws. "As you can see with your own eyes, this is simply a cat," he continued, "but if you wish to retrieve an expert to further inspect them, you may."
Her eye twitched. The guards behind her relaxed some, one guard elbowing another who had accidentally let out a small chuckle. They stood straight when she turned back to glare at them.
The elven man reached down and picked up the cat in his arms, affectionately caressing its ears.
Someone in the crowd whispered, "what was that initial form then?"
He heard this and replied, "I can say I have never seen a unicorn. That was my best guess."
"Man, what a hack!" People began walking away.
When the officer looked back at him, he sighed and added, "it's a rudimentary spell that I devised, but thank you for spoiling the charm and mysteries of our show. Are we free to leave, or do you want to stay and watch an act?" He was no longer joyful as he glanced at her, his voice almost resentful.
She scoffed and turned to walk away with a grumble, "carry on." The other guards parted for her to step through, turning and following behind her.
The people that had been left began to scatter, blending back into the crowd along the promenade with whispers.
"The patrols are really on edge today, they even stopped a street performance? Seems a bit much if you ask me," exclaimed a young man and woman as they walked away side by side.
"Mama! I really wanted to see the show!" A child whimpered, grabbing their mother's clothing. "It's over honey, come on," she soothed. "How about I get you some pastries?" With the mention of pastries, the toddler's teary eyes began to shine with dawnlight.
As the crowds dispersed, the elven man's once mysterious aura faded as he patted the cat in his arms. The elven girl with him leaned up on her toes, whispering something into his pointed ear. He sighed, looked around, and shook his head. The three of them turned and started walking away.
"Wait!" Tarron dashed after them.
They halted, "what can we do for you? The show is-" The elven man froze as he rotated around.
Tarron held up his very last silver coin. "I'm sorry your show was interrupted. I wish I could have seen more." The cat appeared to be staring at him with anger in its eyes, but the girl's eyes shone with delight.
The elven man looked him in the eyes, received the coin, and bowed his head. His gaze slowly returned to the boy in front of them with a look of 'there are no pointy ears?'
"You're human," he said with an inclination of his head.
Tarron was taken aback by the remark, "I am."
When he observed the boy's cautious reaction, the elf's expression became panicked.
"Ah, I meant no disrespect," he said. "How imprudent of me! I sincerely appreciate your patronage, youngster." This time he stooped deeply, the cat in his arms meowing. "May fortune smile on you on your journeys, wherever they may take you."
Tarron smiled and nodded as they turned to leave, the elf girl giving him one more smile and wave before disappearing into the masses. He sighed and shifted his bag on his shoulder as he walked in the opposite direction.
The elven man strolled with the white cat in one arm and the coin in the other, scrutinizing it closely. With a wondering, "Hm," he tightened his fist around that silver coin, one corner of his lip twisted into a smirk.
"So it is," he said with a glance up at the sky, his golden eyes gleaming in the light. He let out a peculiar breathy laugh, his visage broadening, and abruptly tossed the coin through the air to his young assistant, saying, "hold onto that."
She caught it ungraciously in one hand, nearly dropping it because she hadn't expected him to toss it without notice, and she was still holding the wooden hoop in one hand.
"Ah? Alright?" She said with a confused look as she watched him walk ahead, stroking the white cat in his arms. His expression and demeanor were weird as ever, and she smiled as she skipped after them.