Daffodil was right about mud camping. It’s pretty difficult to do on the ground without an actual solid floor. A sleeping bag would just end up sunk into the muck over time. Thankfully there are trees around. Teuila and I briefly toyed with the idea of doing a snuggly little dugout. But, it’s likely the acid rain would work its way down our air-holes, and either collapse the air-holes, or eventually become a deluge that fills the dugout. Sadly, most of these trees don’t have low hanging branches, and we don’t dare climb to their very tops. The horizontal streaking lightning occasionally makes a jagged zigzag in the sky that brings it close to the treetops.
We end up seeking trees with the largest exposed roots. Once we find one, we work at setting our lean-to up against such a tree, over one of the roots. That’s about as close as we’ll get to a clean floor, or a floor at all. By the end of our first sleep, our first change of clothes are fairly well ruined, and worse, the acid is eating away and fraying the edges of Teuila’s favorite outfit.
We aren’t used to having to figure out a solution for fresh water though. We can’t drink the rain until it has been filtered by the soil down into the groundwater. Perhaps we can drink from the river, if it flows fast enough. Hopefully the river water will reduce the acid content. This world seems to still defy some of what I think I know about physics. The basis of that knowledge is from Earth though, which, as far as I know, is a fake world.
There’s a bridge over the first river, the river that travels almost directly north and south. Daffodil called it the River Caioh, and there’s a carving indicating as such along the bridge, so it’s pretty easy to tell we’re on the right track. Following Daffodil’s directions are a bit of a marvel though, as there is barely at best a footpath that she must have beat herself over the years of journeying to and from Noirdivinhoz. As she said, there’s no ferry to be spotted while we follow the next river west towards Lake Siempre.
Teuila could probably make the journey in less than a day if it weren’t for having to haul me around. When I’m jogging along behind her, she easily outpaces me by probably triple my speed. If she were to try to drop evolutionary line down to Valkyrie, and her Valkyrie leaps functioned on Rayileklia, even the non-powered ones, she could make the journey in minutes. Well, perhaps a couple of hours at the longest.
After two days, it becomes pretty obvious that we’re approaching Autumn Brook. There are animated corpses, some preserved in states of minor decay, milling about as we approach civilization. Some are randomly chopping a field with a hoe, others are standing around in armor. Yet more of the undead are herding sheep, and on and on. One is laying in a familiar scene. Atop a grassy hill, beneath the leeward side of a tree. The animated Aasimovian corpse that rests atop the hill sits in blissful, idyllic peace, occasionally tapping its toes to some unheard rhythm. Their autonomous nature does give them some sort of existence that’s almost a life of its own.
When the city finally comes into view, it’s more European than I expected after having witnessed Daffodil’s home. There are cobblestone paths, the buildings are a mix of brick and wood, there are oil lamps in addition to the luma tulipa plants. One building in particular looks like it has a third of an upside-down ship as part of its roof. Ah, that would probably be the Johnston Keel-over. I motion towards the inn to get Teuila’s attention. She’s gazing about in wide-wonder. It’s kind of adorable. I suppose that I’ve been so wrapped up in the things I want answers to, that I haven’t stopped to figuratively smell the tulipa as it were. I never got around to regenerating my sense of smell, and now it’s too late, but, again, it’s a figure of speech. Or well, internal monologue thought. You know what I mean, me.
I join Teuila in gazing around, admiring the disparate architecture. Even in a town such as this, it’s odd to see more than one style, or era of building. Or maybe because it’s the sort of town that it is, that it’s surprising to see. I think the other surprising thing about the village, or city, is how teeming with life it is. People, sheeps, horses, even cats and dogs that might be strays. I think this is the first time in our lives, certainly in our reincarnated lives, that we’ve seen animals that weren’t critterkin, besides fish and frogs. We should probably secure a place to stay, then ask the proprietor where we can find Harriet, Mairess Du Pon De Brook.
The entrance of the inn has what I can only describe as swinging saloon doors. The inside is dimly lit, and there’s a burly crowd sitting at a table immediately to the left of the entrance. A muscular, statuesque woman with long, frizzy brown hair stands near a bar. Her gray eyes shift between the burly crowd, and us. Since we’re the new patrons and all. Her apron pockets are laden with heavy things, judging by the handles, cookware and cutting implements like cleavers.
A meek, wiry fellow doffs a tophat towards the watchful woman as he retires upstairs, likely to his room. A rotund man grabs a hardtack roll from a basket on the counter, and leaves some coins as he turns to exit. He brushes by us while jovially eating his to-go meal as it were.
Suddenly I realize I haven’t been paying attention to my sense of hearing, as I hear, “Well blokes, what ‘ave we got ‘ere eh? Seems like a couple of, whatta the locals call ‘em? Wahines? A couple of wahine kittens out for a lark, gawpin’ and gawkin’ at everythin’ under the sun, only one expression ‘tween the two of ‘em.”
Teuila adopts a protective, angered expression when she realizes they might be thinking about capitalizing on our innocence and naivety. She actually cracks her knuckles as the fools step closer to us. She’s also ready to tell them off about my gender, but I shake my head towards her, signaling I want her to let it slide. They aren’t worth the effort of educating.
“Well looky ‘ere, a new expression, seems it’s not two kittens, but a mama cat and ‘er kit, the fuzzy lookin’ one could actually be a cat, right fellas? Still, she’s sorta svelte, sleek, got a right nice body on ‘er. ‘asn’t she?”
As the brutish fellow approaches Teuila with hands up placatingly, he reaches to grab her by her shoulder, or perhaps her neck, and several things happen at once. Teuila dodges nimbly, my hand instinctively flicks to Taylynn’s dagger, partially unsheathing it, and the muscular bar-woman appears instantly between all of us.
The bar-woman, obviously Keeley Johnston, says, “I’ll not ‘ave you accosting my female patrons, nor any for that matter. If I ‘ave to tell you again, I’ll get the guards to ship you off ma kai. And that’s only if I don’t feel like ‘auling off and taking you out myself. And you little, hm, not wahine, braddah, you keep that thing in its sheathe unless you want to test which of us swings a blade faster and ‘arder. I’ve got my eye on you. Gear like that, size like that, young looking, says something about a person, says they’re probably a sneak thief, or maybe something a little darker.”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Well, crap. I’ve just made a terrible first impression on our host. But, also, why was my instinct to reach for that dagger in that spot on my belt? Also, should I bother telling her that I’m neither wahine nor braddah? It’s probably not the best time, after this little debacle. The brute squad heads back to their table with their hands up, palms empty and forward. I quickly place my hands in the same placating position, showing that I’m not intending to use the borrowed weapon. I probably shouldn’t mention that there’s half a dozen or more other weapons in the various leaf packs and satchels that we’re carrying, or that the staff I’m leaning on has enough magic in it to level this building, if not the whole town. I nearly dropped it when my hand went for the dagger. I should keep a better handle on my reflexes.
The odd double-barreled wrist-mounted crossbow that fires anti-undead bolts of magic is also in one of these satchels. I wonder how much of a faux-pas it would be to have something that’s specifically more damaging to undead in Aasimovia. I’d rather not find out.
I stammer an apology, “I’m, I’m sorry, this isn’t even my dagger. We’re looking for its owner, eventually. Her name is Taylynn. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of her? Err, Daffodil said we should talk to Harriet about the Colossi problem. We’ll go do that before we bother you for information. Again, I’m so sorry.”
Keeley scoffs, “Likely story, but you dropped the right names, I’ll let it slide, for now. I’m keeping my eyes on you though. Sneak-thief, killer, whatever you are. If you’re on a first name basis with the Mairess, you ought to know where to find ‘er. If you’re only familiar with ‘er because of Daffodil, then I’m ‘ighly suspicious of your motives. We aren’t a rich town, we’re not offering merc-work.”
Oh heavens, do we look like some sort of adventuring mercenaries? I mean, Teuila looks like, well, a lovely woman ready for a day of hanging out with friends in modern Earth, normally, when she’s in her chocolate and cherry dress. Even in these muddied whites of our under-armor padded clothing, she looks like a refined athletic woman just out enjoying herself. I, well, I probably do look like some sneaky little mercenary. Still, I’m surprised no one’s really batting an eye at Teuila’s appearance. Are critterkin, or demi-humans, or other such things, commonplace in Rayileklia after all? Dreams of Aces never showed anyone that wasn’t pure human.
I facepalm as I realize I’ve been spacing out while in the middle of a conversation. I then regret facepalming, as I’m sure it looked disrespectful. Keeley’s glare confirms my suspicion.
I try to explain, “I’m sorry, I’m prone to getting lost in thought, and I’m ashamed and embarrassed to have done it just now. Daffodil did tell us to see Mairess Du Pon De Brook. We didn’t stay long enough at Noirdivinhoz to--“
There’s suddenly a cleaver at my throat, my danger wraps gave me plenty of warning as it happened, but I didn’t want to move and start an actual fight, Teuila’s hackles are risen and every muscle in her body is visibly coiled to lunge at Keeley. My eyes shoot wide with terror at how bad our first interaction is going. I almost imperceptibly shake my head at Teuila as she meets my gaze.
Keeley growls through gritted teeth, “There are some names that you don’t just drop, little braddah. Some of us ‘ave a little more respect for our faith, and its lesser kept secrets. I’d expect you to abide by the secrecy portion.”
Oh, right, didn’t Daffodil say that Noirdivinhoz itself was a secret? She also said it wasn’t secret that Aasimovia had some unknown secret temple, somewhere, that served the purpose that it does. As I’m about to apologize, Keeley shoves the cleaver into her apron, but Teuila remains poised to strike. I gulp, shaking my head at Teuila once again.
Gulping, I apologize again, “I’m, I’m sorry, we’re very, very new to Aasimovia, we, we, well, we stumbled into, um, the place near Daffodil. From, um, the far side of it.”
This gets a raised eyebrow from Keeley. Hopefully it hints that we’re really not from around here, and hopefully she believes that. I continue, “I, um, I suppose this is a pretty awful time to say we could use a room while we try to figure things out, while we hopefully help with the Colossi.”
Keeley scoffs and heads back to the bar. This time, while behind the bar, she rummages through a small cupboard of keys. She veritably shouts towards us, “Alright, what can you afford?”
Oh crap, currency. I begin to pull out one of the smaller satchels that’s loaded with coins and gems. I scratch my head as I try to figure out how to go about this. Abandoning figuring it out on my own, I steel my resolve to ask for more help from someone that dislikes me.
I quietly mumble, so that hopefully only Keeley hears, “We, uh, we really, really are incredibly new to these parts, so I’m not sure what might pass as currency. We have coinage minted elsewhere, and, um, gemstones. Mostly rubies, emeralds, some sapphires, diamonds, agates, peridots, just lots of the more well-known ones.”
Keeley’s jaw sets firmly as she sizes me up, trying to determine if I’m lying I suppose. As I show her the contents of the sack, one eyebrow raises while the other squints in disbelief.
Keeley hisses quietly under her breath for only me to hear, “What the devil. Put that away. You’ve more wealth than our entire town in that sack. You can’t possibly be ‘ere for mercwork you little shid. Come back after you’ve talked to the Mairess, one of those little ones will do per week of room and board.” She points at the tiniest emerald, or maybe the tiny sapphire next to it, then continues, “I’ll give you one of the trader’s select rooms, for my wealthier patrons. I keep those ones clean, and packed with fresh linens. The other rooms mostly fend for themselves. All the better to keep an eye on you anyway.”
I try to hide my pout as I gulp. I still don’t know where to go to talk to Mairess Du Pon De Brook. The confusion must be plain on my face, because Keeley facepalms as she grits her teeth while her cheeks redden with further anger.
Keeley virtually grunts, “The long single story hall, you utter little shid. Council business is ‘andled there during the day.” As I scratch my head, radiating confusion and embarrassment, Keeley rolls her eyes before continuing, “The shid? Don’t tell me you don’t even know what time day is! Just where the ‘ell are you from? Forget it, just go.” As my mouth tries to form words, she says, “Now!”
Keeley accentuates the final word of her statement by whipping her cleaver out of her apron and slamming it into the counter-top, embedding it several inches into the thick wood. I nearly keel over with fright, but remain perfectly still, standing wide-eyed for a moment. I’m less scared of actually being hurt by her, and more scared of inspiring so much ire that I could get us run out of town. As I regain my senses, I gulp and begin to skitter away quickly, tying up my sacks and satchels as best I can while snagging Teuila by the wrist to run out the door. I haven’t felt such animosity from someone since Priscilla. Well, perhaps Leviathan. I didn’t really count him as a person though, just a destructive force of nature. Three out of four of the deities of our island continent were at least amicable. Leviathan though, he was all too happy to create the Hallowed Maelstrom and bring about the Divine Convergence that heralded the end of our lives.
Teuila cracks her knuckles and almost begs, “Should I go back in there and bust some skulls? They’re just humans. No powers, barely any weapons worth mentioning. I could put them in their places for threatening you. Just say the word.”
I know our world was basically a world of kill or be killed, but the dichotomy of people from such a world, thrown into one that’s more like Earth is such a stark contrast. On Can’Z’aas, that would be a perfectly reasonable reaction to establish that you’re not someone to be messed with. Here, if we busted skulls, we’d probably be thrown in jail. Humans also don’t regenerate overnight like we critterkin did from most injuries. If Teuila went all out, someone would get seriously injured and either die during the fight, or afterwards from recovery complications. I shake my head towards Teuila, but stand in front of the long single story building, holding her hands for an inordinate amount of time. Her muscles slowly un-tense as she lowers her guard.