I hear a soothing masculine voice rattling off what sounds like Spanish, “Ay dios, como se dice la palabra, ah that word, that fricking word. You know the one. No soy estupido pero no puedo… Ah forget it! I will handle what I can madame Mairess. Just, please, do not do anything rash. Loss of life is still loss of life.”
As we’re rounding the corner to enter, the bearer of this voice nearly walks into us as he exits the building. Startled, he asks, “Ah, newcomers? Donde..? Ah, wait, how rude of me. I am Tiago, local pharmacist, or alchemist, or healer, or miracle worker, depending on who you ask. Welcome to Autumn Brook, este es una ciudad magnifica de Aasimovia. Y, la primera. Or at least that’s what we’re supposed to tell people. Que quieres aqui?”
He was about to ask where we’re from by the sounds of it, instead he’s welcoming us and asking us what we want here. He might be asking what he can do for us, if my memory of the translation isn’t meant to be taken directly literally. In some Spanish speaking regions, that’s basically how a shopkeeper greets their patrons. Like a version of “Hello how may I help you?” Oh, right, interact with the world around me, answer questions.
I scratch the back of my head, blushing with embarrassment. My blush is likely hidden by how red all of my skin has become in the ever-present stinging rain. Thankfully, Tiago is motioning us inside the meeting-hall, at least its front vestibule, while he awaits a response.
I start, “We’re, um, we’ve arrived from a certain location to the east where we met Daffodil. She said this town had a problem with Colossi? She thought we might be able to help, after learning of some of our abilities, and seeing some of our magic. She told us to meet with Harriet Du Pon De Brook, the Mairess?”
Tiago’s right eyebrow looks fit to lift right off the top of his slightly balding cranium, past his lovely dreadlocks. He calls behind him, virtually shouting in excitement, “Harriet! Vas a querer escuchar esto. Newcomers to the Brook! Ah, pues, no necessitamos a mi para esto. I hope you’ll pardon me. Please, come by my apothecary when you are free, introduce yourselves to me and my husband. We’d be glad of the company.”
I raise a finger and my mouth tries to form words, but Tiago politely bows ever so slightly as he shimmies past us. It seems he was in a hurry. More oddly than that, he peppers in Spanish when he speaks, but I can understand it. Why are both of those surprising? I mean, Daffodil seemed Hawaiian or Tahitian or French Polynesian. This town has architecture from all up and down western Europe’s dark ages. Those thugs at the inn seemed straight out of Victorian London, or somewhere near there at least. But how do I even know those factoids on top of everything else? Rayileklia is giving me a headache, or maybe it’s my fakeworld memories that’re giving me the headache.
A woman of average height, with dark skin, and a haughty feel about her arrives from the inner door, motioning us into the full grand hall itself, instead of this vestibule. She has soft, angular, light brown eyes, and short, curly, black hair. Her clothes, like many in Rayileklia, are mostly earth-coloured.
She announces herself, “Greetings newcomers, welcome to The Brook. I am your humble Mairess, final arbiter of council decisions. San Tiago sounded excited, and urgent. Please, elucidate as to why?”
Teuila is busy gazing around at the inside of the great hall, it’s one of the fanciest buildings we’ve been in, definitely the fanciest since Eimsas. Though, to be fair, Spice and Teodora were drawing up magnificent plans for buildings around the Miracle Oak. Many of them were sure to be resplendent, once utility and necessity had been taken care of. Both were excitable designers and architects.
The Mairess coughs for attention, and I stutter an introduction, “Oh, yes, yes, um, sorry, sorry. Daffodil said, well, we arrived from the far side of, um, Keeley said we shouldn’t say it out loud. We—“
The honorable Mairess does a visible double take, interrupting me to ask, “You come from where? Speak plainly.”
Teuila nudges me, leaving me in charge of talking, though we both know I’m horrible at it. I continue, “Well, yes, we come from, err, beyond Noirdivinhoz. Sorry for using its secret name. We uh, we died on our world, and somehow ended up on this one. Rayileklia is entirely alien to us, but we—“
The Mairess cleans out her ears as she blinks hard twice, and can’t control her dropped jaw as she interrupts me again, talking seemingly to herself at first, “Honor to the first. From beyond the pale? Could they be the key to..? No, no. That is not why Daffodil sent them to me.” She rattles her head side to side a moment before continuing, “Forgive me. I suppose I’m easily surprised. I’ve been stretched a bit thin, we all have. Our situation is slightly grim.”
I pause for a beat, waiting to see if she continues. When it seems that she’s also waiting on me to speak, I go on, “We’re, well. I’m Reggie, this is Teuila. We’re sort of adventurers or something, where we’re from. We’ve dealt with some towns on the verge of crises before. Daffodil thought we might be powerful enough to help with some sort of Colossi problem? We didn’t stay long enough to find out, since it seemed time was of the essence. What sort of problem is it exactly? On our world, we’re rather used to, well, killing our problems. Wow, that sounds horrible.”
Harriet lets loose the tiniest hint of a chortle at my admonishing myself for my end statement. I don’t bother to mention that we left in a hurry because Teuila and I both needed to cry our hearts out, after parting ways with our closest loved ones on this planet. No one need know that tidbit beyond the two of us. I gaze towards Teuila, trying to radiate love into a psychic bond that I know we can no longer access. I sigh in a forlorn manner before adopting a more serious expression as I face the Mairess once again.
She appraises the two of us, seeming doubtful as her gaze takes us in, top to bottom. She puffs a sighed breath out the left side of her mouth as she starts, “It started innocently enough. In the nineties, a tribe of exiles running from some countries to the north had taken root ma kai, on the peninsula to the west. They grew in strength, and size. Not in number mind you, but actual size. At first we treated them with as much kindness as any neighbor. Recently though, they’ve been taking our ancestors, and extorting us with the promise of their release. They also give thinly veiled threats of the harm they could do to our town, given their immense size.”
I ruminate momentarily. A people, a group of people, that began to physically change over time? Not only that, but they went from peaceful neighbors, to greedy, hostile foes? It smells like something else is at play here. Uh, figuratively. Still haven’t regenerated that sense since I lost it. While stroking my chin, I realize Teuila’s eyes are alight with the idea of adventure and combat. I don’t want to disappoint her, but I also don’t want our first solution to be simply murdering everyone that has been acting like a jerk.
I start off fielding easier questions, “You said this started in the nineties? Of what, um, century or millennium? What year is it now?”
Harriet looks shocked as she answers, “It’s twelve oh one. They’ve been here less than a decade. Rumors of the killings in the hierarchy of the North started in the eighties, but we don’t necessarily suspect them, perhaps just coincidence, especially since the rumors continued after they arrived. As I said, they were peaceful, appearing to be refugees at first. By all accounts, the murders were more like assassinations, likely carried out by a single individual.”
I stifle a nervous chuckle as my face flushes with embarrassment. I’m almost positive those killings were done by Aces. How many people did Aces slay, trying to get to the Celestial Emperor? Did that cause political strife, and scapegoating? By the sounds of it, they were at the job for almost twenty years, far, far longer than any mission that’s normally taken on, at least, I would imagine.
Huh, on the job from the eighties until oh one. It would also mean that they were around a century in age when they passed away in Noirdivinhoz. They met the girls some night when they were in their eighties, the night Aces officially took the job, even though they had already been doing some work on it. I remember Aces saying something about their age being in their eighties, and they met up with the girls before the killings started. Taylynn and Selunie seemed to be in their twenties or thirties in some of the dreams, dreams where Aces was meeting them for the first time. So, let’s see, if they exist, they should be around somewhere between nearly forty or in their fifties now. Will I be able to recognize them from the flashes of imagery I have as memories of the dreams?
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Whoops, Harriet seems annoyed, I’d best continue, “How large exactly would one of the Colossi be at this point? How many are there?”
Harriet’s answer is unsurprising, “Some thirty feet tall or so, skin hard as stone. They say their warriors and leaders are twice that. Given their ability to create an actual gulf between us, I believe them. They numbered in the dozens originally, maybe a hundred or so.”
A gulf? Like a long ditch? That would complicate a rescue mission, especially for possibly uncooperative undead. I begin placing my magic items on the long conference table, trying to take stock of our resources. So much of it is geared towards violence and killing. Harriet’s gaze follows my own as I inspect my belongings.
She queries, “And what is all this then? I recognize weapons when I see them, so don’t smart off.”
I barely contain my smile as I stifle a chuckle. She read me like a book. I would have unconsciously given a snarky answer in places where I felt comfortable, such as this one. She does have an air of authority that also radiates comfort, protection, safety. I trace my fingers along one edge of my staff, probably the most powerful item in my arsenal. I can tell that its magics are still available to me, and that they will refill from the vibrant energy that permeates Rayileklia’s atmosphere. It’s similar to how I would regain energy by siphoning atomic motion, heat, to fuel my spells. There’s this faint tug by the staff, but, since it’s full already, the energy in the air just bounces away.
My answer is as concise as I can make it, “These are the resources that I have available to help solve potentially aggressive problems. Like you said, weapons. The magic in them is mostly harmful, or, well, fatal, to those on the wrong end of them. Luni, a dear friend of ours who isn’t journeying with us, has the tendril tattoo, it’s probably the least deadly of the weapons available to us. Those would have been pretty tremendously helpful, since they could restrain even the giant, floating, toothy, ugh. Teuila, stop, yes, I know what they looked like.”
Teuila is barely containing her laughter as she waggles her eyebrows, knowing that we fought an army of what were essentially giant, floating, toothy spermatozoa. Harriet’s glance passes from me to Teuila and back several times. Harriet’s face then adopts a gloom as she tilts it downward, shrouding her expression in shadow. Her pensiveness must be in weighing whether or not she wants to send a couple of alien murderers after her problem. Not like, alien murderers, but like, foreign people who happen to murder. Ugh, I know what I mean. You know what I mean, me. Ye gods it’s lonely inside my own skull without a telepathic bond. I must be going crazy, arguing with my own inner monologue.
Harriet starts, “As I’ve said, we’ve been extorted, to the point of near ruination. We can’t exactly offer anything for any help you might give. If this is a show of force, I’m not willing to trade one cruel extortion for another, no matter how innocent you may appear.”
I blush, and hold my hands up, palms forward, “No no, I don’t, um, I don’t think we want anything. Keeley said our wealth can get us a room, no problem, even though it’s not the currency of the land. We’re just hoping to help as we pass through. I have a kind of self imposed quest. There’s someone I have to find. I doubt anyone here knows the names Taylynn, or Selunie and Jarvis Tavner. I’ll likely have to head north into the Celestial Imperium to learn anything. Like, maybe directions to the nearest town within its borders could help, but I don’t want to ask the wrong questions or make enemies.”
Harriet seems to appraise me sternly, trying to discern my level of honesty. It’s true, other than maybe asking Keeley if any traders have ever mentioned staying at an inn in some city that’s owned by the Tavners, I doubt we’ll pick up many leads here. Other than leads, I don’t really want anything from anyone in Rayileklia. I just want to get home.
Harriet takes a different tack, one I didn’t expect, “Would you mind showing me this wealth, not of this land? Perhaps I can calculate an exchange rate for you.”
I scratch my head, wondering if coins from another planet might be worth exchanging for anything on this one. I’m not interested in hiding anything from Harriet, so I do pull out one of the pouches that I’ve filled with material wealth. I don’t have to mention that it’s a tiny fraction of a percent of what’s sitting locked away in a magical inventory that is more easily accessible on another planet. I could summon more in eight minutes of painful effort. Harriet rounds the long table to lean over it near Teuila, inspecting the coinage and gems.
She mumbles, “Fascinating. Definitely not Imperium, nor Heart. Between these, and the redness and welts of your skin, I suspect you’re being honest, rather than having gone through such trouble for a ruse. I think you’ll find that the coins will be honored in approximately equal value. If someone asks for a metal, yours should be equivalent, gold, silver, what have you. If you’re still worried about not having local currency, I could offer to purchase some of the gems from you with the town treasury. I would offer you a fair price that still leans in the town’s favor of course.”
That’s refreshingly direct, and honest. Most people don’t admit that when they’re buying something, they want to retain a profit margin. She’s got me pegged yet again though. The further I can be from rousing suspicion in Rayileklia, the better, especially as our quest likely drags us into the Celestial Imperium. I nod to her, motioning towards the gems freely. If it weren’t for my desire to have the option to appear indistinct, I’d just dump the bag of gems in her town’s coffers.
Harriet’s eyes glint slightly of greed. Her town has suffered financially recently, and she seems honest about using the treasury to purchase them for the town itself. Based on her lack of finery, jewelry, or other ostentatious wear, she doesn’t look like the type to hoard or display wealth either. In fact, most everyone in Aasimovia seems rather equal economically, so far as I’ve seen. Keeley is probably a bit better off than some, but she doesn’t flaunt it. She probably spreads the wealth around, giving fair or better prices for food and drink to serve at her inn.
Harriet mutters something about road projects, and dock work, apparently already planning how to spend the profit she’ll be making on the gems, for the town. She looks like she’s doing calculations in the air as she scratches her head with her left hand’s index finger, while her right index finger scrawls aimlessly in front of her.
Mairess Du Pon De Brook suddenly asks, “I don’t suppose you’d care to wager some of this wealth on a hand of cards, would you?”
I adopt an expression of playful incredulity, releasing the slightest snort of laughter. About a third of a smile raises along the left half of my face, while my right brow raises slightly. She takes the hint, and power walks to some room along the back side of this grand hall meeting space. She returns with a ledger, a small safe, and a large coin-purse.
Harriet, upon returning, states, “Should it matter, I only ever wager my personal wealth when gambling, and I donate excess winnings straight to the town coffers. It’s actually why we have more than dust bunnies at the moment.”
She then begins to explain local values of precious stones to traders that will be stopping by from various cities in Aasimovia and the various nations, especially the island kingdoms, but it makes my head spin.
I hold up a hand, “Mairess Du Pon De Brook, I won’t know if you’re swindling me heavily in the town’s favor, or if you’re only making a small percent profit margin. I honestly don’t care either way, no offense. I just want to be able to travel Rayileklia without drawing attention to myself, or Teuila, if I can help it. Mostly once we hit the Imperium. We’ve sort of outed ourselves in this town already, so I don’t mind continuing to be a bit of an outsider here.”
I pause for a breath, then continue, “Still, we definitely want the option to appear indistinct in the Imperium. I’d just like to be prepared with a cover story, and local belongings by the time we explore that nation. Whatever a couple of traders would have for a few weeks, or month’s worth of journeying should be all I need, I think. I don’t know how long we’ll be on this world. My ultimate goal is to find a way for all of us to return to our own, nothing else really matters. Along the way though, I want to keep being myself, and that includes helping out where I can.”
Harriet Du Pon De Brook looks slightly taken aback, while Teuila looks proud as she adopts a cocky stance with her arms crossed. Te’s smirk is reassuring, and I try not to laugh at the smugness playing across her face. Harriet’s gaze appraises me once again, seemingly in a new light. Harriet then takes in Teuila, as if for the first time. Te flexes her biceps proudly, and I have to stifle a giggle. Teuila is strong as all heck, but her muscle is so lean as to be barely noticeable when viewed from a distance, normally anyway. Still, she can present a bulging muscle when flexing properly. Harriet looks between the two of us questioningly, and I nod, hoping the unspoken question is whether or not Teuila is the muscle and power of the party. The answer of course, is that she is.
Te nods as she speaks up to extol, “Yeah, my spooterputz is a hero. We go where there’s trouble, and help when we can. Easiest kind of trouble to deal with is the kind you can beat up, or slay.” Teuila pounds her right fist into her left palm, cracking her knuckles in the process, for emphasis.
Harriet glances questioningly at Teuila before requesting, “If it’s at all possible, we’d simply prefer things return to the way they were, before our neighbors grew frighteningly large and powerful and hostile. I’m not saying there must be no bloodshed, but I also dislike the idea of a war being brought about, and us left to deal with that animosity. Don’t solve one problem by erecting a larger one in its place. Please.”
Teuila grumbles something about butt-kicking while I ruminate on how to carry out Harriet’s request. It seems like it might be time for a patented Reggie Shellcracker accidental assassination mission. I really hope this Colossi peninsula doesn’t become my new Beaver Dam tunnel complex. Three for three on accidentally stumbling into situations that I killed someone while in there. Still, if the vague concept of fiction tells me anything, it’s to expect repeated patterns. Life imitates fiction, or fiction imitates life, I’m not sure which. Either way, I smell a repeated trope coming about.