Interlude IX – Near Journey’s End

[Seven Years Ago]

Palmira scratched her face, plucking and rubbing at smooth skin. But that only made it itch harder, and with a grimace she continued to scratch and scratch, until her skin was red and chafing.

“Stop that,” Lenna hissed, smacking her hands away from her face. “It’s gross!”

“I can’t help it!” Palmira snapped back, shifting to scratch at her shoulders.

It had been months since that day on the tower, and for all that their lives had changed because of it, for some reason so much more had stayed the same.

It made her uncomfortable, how little the loss of a friend affected their daily lives. They were still homeless, still nomadic, and still broke. Now they were just sad as well.

Her nails dug into her arms. Though, the loss of Giulia wasn’t the only thing that changed.

She hadn’t realized how much she’d gotten used to her old scarred, melted skin until it was replaced. How tense and stiff it was as she moved her body, compared to how soft and delicate her new flesh was.

She reached her palms, and moved onto her knees, drawing fresh white lines across unmarked flesh.

It had been months, and she still felt like a stranger in her own skin.

“Palmira!” Lenna hissed again, this time grabbing her hands. “Stop! People are staring!”

Palmira glanced up. They were crammed into the back of a cart, alongside a dozen other children and elderly. They’d stumbled across a large caravan and hitched a ride. It was mostly merchants—elves and dwarves and humans trading across the Pumilios—but a good amount of pilgrims followed along, heading south to the Holy City.

Currently, the weakest of those other pilgrims were eying her warily.

“Pardon my rudeness,” a man so old he was little more than wrinkles and bones coughed. “But your friend wouldn’t happen to be ill, would she?”

“No, she’s fine,” Lenna rolled her eyes. “She’s just being weird.”

Palmira scowled at them, and then scowled at her friend. She didn’t need to call her weird. She knew why she was doing this.

Then again, that’s what it had been like for a while now. Ever since that day, it was like a Giulia shaped hole had grown between them. One she wasn’t sure it would ever be filled.

“I’m going to walk for a bit,” she announced, to an uncaring hum from her friend.

Getting up, she awkwardly shuffled between the bodies and around a bushel of roses, before leaping out the back of the cart. She landed with a huff, a few sparks dripping from her fingers as she held back a yelp from the sudden shock to her feet.

Instead she brought her hands up to her face, dripping popping sparks onto her cheeks to protect against the blistering mountain winds.

Having new skin sucked.

Huffing, she turned around, jogging lightly to get ahead of the cart. As she did, she took a moment to glance off to the side, taking in the view.

They were on one of the few Dwarven roads which had been built on the surface, clinging tight to the side of the craggy mountains. The edge of the old road sat overlooking the valley below, and despite herself she found herself wandering closer to glance over the edge. Spreading out below them was miles upon miles of untouched forest, the brilliant blue leaves of the trees marking the first days of Autumn. High above the towering snow-capped peaks of the Pumilios bled sparkling rivers into the slumbering forest, marking the source of one of the many rivers that would flow down into Alovoa.

For a moment she was distracted from the discomfort of her skin by the untouched beauty before her, so far away from—

The rock under her foot cracked, and she slipped.

Palmira only had a moment for her eyes to widen, arms flying out to try and recapture some semblance of balance, only for her to continue to fall, heading right for the edge—!

Vibrant red roses burst into bloom around her, thorny vines snaking up her ankles and waist in an instant, until she was safely ensconced in a bed of roses teetering on the side of the cliff.

“Hey!” a voice cried out. She glanced up, and saw a nymph sitting on a carriage overgrown with red roses and sharp thorns, to the point they almost looked like they were growing into and from the woman. “Like, be more careful, girl! You’re lucky I caught you, otherwise you’d’ve splattered yourself all the way down that mountain!”

Palmira took a moment to steady her racing heart, before she rasped out, “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, deary,” she waved her off, spiked nails waggling to and fro. “Just stay away from the edge from now on, you hear me?”

“Right,” she muttered, steadying herself. Tugging herself free of the blooming rosebush—and grimacing as thorns scratched and tugged at her sensitive uncovered skin—she stumbled back onto the mountain road, rushing as far from the edge as possible.

“There you go!” the nymph smiled at her, sharp and thorny teeth on full display. Then, with a wave of her hand, the rose bush that she’d grown on the mountainside shifted. It pulled itself from the rocky earth and shuffled forward on its roots as though they were legs, marching up to the overgrown carriage where it joined its brethren with the nymph.

Palmira stared at the blatant display of magic, something she’d not even grown used to back in Iscrimo, where mages freely walked the streets. It was times like this that she wished she’d been born as anything other than a human, if only that she could use magic so freely.

“Thank you again. And, um, sorry,” Palmira tried to smile at the nymph, but it came out as more of a grimace.

“Don’t you worry your little head, deary,” the nymph smiled at her once again. “Saving little girls like you is what I get paid to do! I am an adventurer, after all!”

An adventurer? Like the ones from the stories? The people who fought Horrors and Demons and saved princesses from towers?

Palmira’s eyes went wide, childish glee rising in her chest for the first time in years. “An adventurer? Like those people who slay demons!? Have you ever slain a demon, Signorina Adventurer?”

The nymph laughed softly, a sound like flower petals rustling in the wind. “Of course I have, dearie! Why, not even a month ago I strangled one to death with these very vines! Its blood nourished my beauties here for weeks!”

With sparkling eyes, Palmira practically danced with glee as she rushed to keep up with the flowering carriage. “That’s so cool!”

“Like, if you think that’s cool, then you’ll love the story of how I killed my first Blasphemy! Like, there I was, my companions down for the count and not a weapon to my name, when I realized that the beast had swallowed some of my seeds on accident…”

Her mouth spread into a wide grin, Palmira spent the rest of the trip south marching alongside that carriage, talking with the nymph about her life as an adventurer.

As far from the edge of the mountain as she could physically stand, that is.

--

At some point the caravan stopped going east and turned south, crossing the border and returning them back to the Alovoan peninsula. Palmira had been a bit wary, but a chat with Lenna had led to them agreeing that while the Cantons were technically safer, they weren’t getting anywhere with them. Between their foreign looks and barely being able to speak the language, they likely would spend the rest of their lives homeless vagabonds if they chose to stay there.

So, with nervous yet resolute hearts, they followed the caravan back to Alovoa.

Not to Iscrimo, of course. They were homesick, not stupid. Instead they crossed back over further east, deeper into Firozzi territory.

For now, the caravan had come to a stop in Pedemoa, a small city deep in the deep blue forests of the Linfa Rossa.

Well, Pedemoa wasn’t actually that small. In fact, it was a regional power almost on par with Firozzi locally. But when set up against the likes of the Metropolis of Iscrimo, any city would feel small in comparison.

Built at the conflux of mainland roads leading to the three major Alovoan city-states, it had grown rapidly following the wake of the Demon wars. Between sea trade practically disappearing overnight and the influx of refugees from the west, Pedemoa was one of many inland cities which had exploded in power and prominence in the past few decades.

The city itself was built in a more Elven style than was traditional in Alovoa, with houses half grown from the dark red bark of old-growth trees. Squished between the Elvish treehouses were squat Dwarfish bungalows of dirt and stone half buried in the ground. All of these buildings encircled the old walled city center, in which limestone apartments sat crammed between refurbished Volan buildings and fancy new-money villas.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Pedemoa wasn’t the biggest city she’d ever seen. But it was certainly the most chaotic.

“Follow me, dearies!” Spinosa the rose nymph Palmira had befriended waved the two of them along from where she sat on a walking throne of thorns and roses. Palmira had at first thought it some weird noble thing, but then she saw that the woman didn’t have any legs. “Come come, we’re burning daylight!”

“But I don’t know how to burn daylight yet!” Palmira cried back, panting as she rushed to keep up with the walking throne.

“That’s not what she meant, moron!” Lenna gasped beside her, the more bookish girl having a much harder time keeping up. “Why are we even following this random lady!?”

“Cause she offered us free food?”

Lenna swore. “Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place!?”

“You were being mean!”

“No I wasn’t!”

“Were too!”

“No—”

“Dearies please,” two vines with a minimal amount of thorns wrapped around them, pulling them away from each other. “There’s no need to argue. Especially not when we’re already here!”

The two girls blinked, startled to realize at some point they’d stopped running. Instead, they now stood in front of an old, overgrown Volan ruin. Ancient and crumbling marble pillars towered into the sky, overgrown with lilies, roses, daffodils, and dozens of other flowers she couldn’t name. The red trees native to the area twisted between the pillars, their branches and deep purple-blue leaves acting as a roof for the clearing between.

A large marble stone sat in front of it, ‘Corporazione dei Fiori’ carved into its surface.

“Welcome to my guild,” she laughed, dragging them in. “Cozy, isn’t it?”

Cozy was an apt description. The whole of the guild was contained within the clearing between the pillars. A small wooden desk sat at the front where another nymph was sitting with a glass of wine—wait, no, that was blood—while only four other people sat on woven seats roasting skinned foxes over a crackling fire. Two of them were nymphs as well, though the last two looked like elves.

“Spinosa, why are you carrying two little girls with you?” the desk-nymph sighed, staring at her fellow nymph with dead eyes. “Please tell me you didn’t kidnap them.”

“Of course not!” Spinosa smiled back. “I met them on the job, and now I’m showing them around! Maybe they could even join…?”

“Spinosa. Spinosa. We are a guild, not an orphanage. No, they cannot join. I don’t care what sob story they have, we are not equipped to raise children.”

“Fine, fine,” the rose nymph rolled her eyes, marching past with the slightly disappointed girls in tow. “But I still want to show them around the place. And why, is that roast fox I smell…!”

The desk-nymph sighed, before downing the rest of her blood-wine in a single gulp. “I’m too sober for this.”

Palmira herself was a bit disappointed that joining the guild had been taken off the table, even if she didn’t know until just now that it was even an option. But that thought fled her mind as Spinosa dropped her and Lenna into their own wicker chairs and offered them their own fox.

“Oh?” one of the elves smiled at them, his platinum blonde hair pulled back into a thin braid. “And who are you two?”

“I’m Lenna,” her friend introduced them. Palmira would have helped, but she was too busy shoving her skewer into the fire (and getting dragged back by a panicking nymph when she got a little too close). “And the fireproof moron over here is my friend Palmira.”

“D’n c’ll ma ah m’ron,” Palmira scowled around bites of charred fox. This did not help her case.

“Charmed,” the elf laughed, shaking the overly serious Lenna’s hand firmly. “I am Benjaman, I hail from Bierstadt. Mein husband here,” he pointed at an elf she’d sworn was a woman a second ago, “is Yuri, from Hochendorf. And the two lovely ladies across from us are Quercia and Narcisa, of our fair city of Pedemoa. May I ask where you two are from.”

“Oh, you know,” Lenna shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Around.”

“Oh really?” Benjaman asked, laughter in his eyes. “You must be well traveled, then.”

“Yup!” Palmira smiled, having finished wolfing down her food, much to Quercia’s consternation. “We’ve been everywhere in the Cantons and… uh… actually, yeah, just the Cantons. That’s where we’re from. Yeah…”

Lenna facepalmed, but the elf just laughed. “I see! Spinosa, you said you met these girls while you were guarding that caravan? How exactly did that happen?”

“Oh, I saved the fiery girlie when she almost fell off a cliff,” she shrugged, causing Lenna’s head to snap to Palmira in shock. “But she was just too sweet, so I decided I just had to bring her to visit!”

“You almost fell off a cliff!?” Lenna hissed at her.

“Oh my,” the elf frowned in worry. “I hope you’re okay after such a harrowing experience.”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine!” Palmira shrugged them off, itching her legs while avoiding her friend’s eyes. “It’s not even top five worst days of my life, really!”

“That’s not as encouraging as you seem to think it is,” Yuri’s soft yet dry voice floated over to them. “But I suppose if you’re feeling alright now, that’s all that matters.”

“Exactly!” Palmira nodded sharply. “Anyways… um… Spinosa! Are you sure we can’t join this guild! I promise we’d work really hard. I’ve even—uh, I mean, I’m really good at using fire magic! Promise!”

“Hey, aren’t you forgetting to ask me?” Lenna growled, poking her in the side. Palmira flinched hard, before immediately firing back with pokes of her own.

“I’m sorry, dearies,” the rose nymph sighed, her vines bringing a bottle of blood-wine to her. “But the guildmaster’s word is law. And she is right. This isn’t exactly the place to take care of children.”

Palmira frowned, taking a break from her battle with Lenna (that she was totally winning). “Um… are there any guilds that would take us? I promise I’m a hard worker, and Lenna’s really good at art! We’d be willing to work anywhere!”

“Well…”

“Not here,” Benjaman cut in, voice surprisingly firm. “Pedemoa isn’t the kind of city orphans should be living in. It is…” he trailed off, trying to think of the right word to use. “…unsafe.”

Spinosa frowned into her blood-wine, but didn’t necessarily disagree. “The slave guilds don’t take humans.”

Ah. Well, that was all she needed to hear. Sorry, Pedemoa, it was brief, but she’s not sticking around.

“Not that we know of,” the elf shot back. “And with two young, foreign orphans, it’s best not to risk it. If they want to join a guild, there are better cities. Safer cities.”

That peaked her interest. “Other cities? Like where?”

He hummed. “I’ve only been to a couple others down here, but… Palunera is the safest city I’ve ever been to, but they don’t let you in unless you’ve got official business or you’re a citizen. Fornata’s not bad, but if you want to join a guild there aren’t many opportunities for you. No, no, for a couple of young orphans… it would have to be Firozzi.”

“Firozzi?”

“Oh, that’s where our patron guild is based, isn’t it?” Spinosa asked. “The Ambrosi, right? We’re a subsidiary of them, I think?”

“Yes, though I don’t think I’ve seen a representative from them in years.” Benjaman tapped his fingers together. “But, regarding the girl’s questions… If you want to become an adventurer, Firozzi is the best city on the peninsula—perhaps even the world—to do so. A hundred years ago, it was where the main guildhall for the adventurer’s guild used to be in the region, back when there was only the one guild. I think the guild that uses it is now called the Rodina…? Something like that.”

“Huh…” Palmira frowned. “Firozzi…”

Lenna gave her a look. “You want to head there now, don’t you?”

She nodded slowly. “If… if we can join a guild, maybe not even an adventurer’s guild, but any guild, then…”

Her friend sighed, but nodded. “You’re probably right. You’d fit right in with a party of unwashed adventurers. And I suppose a big city like that would have plenty of opportunities for me to practice my art, so I guess I’m coming with you as well.”

Palmira smiled, relieved her friend was willing to follow her so far. “Thank you, Lenna.”

“Oh, you two are so cute!” Spinosa squealed, wrapping them up in a thorny hug. “Why, I could just eat you up!”

“Please don’t,” Lenna groaned. Palmira, meanwhile, was too busy scratching where the (thankfully dull) thorns were digging into her skin. “Also, please let us down. I think Palmira’s dying over there.”

“Nope!” Spinosa cheered, pressing her cheek into her hair. “Not until I’ve had my fill of the both of you! If you have to leave us, then I’m getting the most I can out of you two while you’re here!”

Lenna groaned, but the rose nymph unfortunately wasn’t exaggerating. For the rest of the night, she didn’t let go of them for anything, shoving them full of food and drink while the others laughed and shared looks of commiseration.

That night, they slept on a bed of roses, and despite the prickly thorns, it was the best sleep they’d gotten in a long time.

But unfortunately, morning inevitably came, and with it the caravan departed further south. So, with a heavy heart (Palmira) and reluctant relief (Lenna) the two girls said their goodbyes to their hosts, and returned to the road once again.

--

They stuck fast to the major roads, sticking close to guarded caravans and around the wealthy villas. They passed through many other villages and cities on their way south, ranging from Opida to Fornata to, finally, the port town of Bocca on the coast.

Bocca itself was meant to be their last stop, one last city to spend the night in before they finally made it to Firozzi.

And, as they had decided, that’s where they would stay. They were just too drained, too tired of the constant uncertainty of wandering to go any further. For better or worse, Firozzi would be the end of their journey.

But for today, they rested in Bocca.

It was a port city west of Firozzi. Unlike the crumbling Opida or the thriving Pedemoa, Bocca gave off the impression of a city long past its heydays and had since come to accept that. Its churches that may have once been decadent were now humbles shadows of what they once were, while the old city center had a rustic grandeur of buildings long overshadowed. Most of the important buildings in the city clustered by the coast, where the grand Holy Tree grew. It was the last part of the city which could truly be considered impressive, a massive oak of living marble, on which purple flames burned in place of leaves, lighting the whole of the city in lilac hues and acting as a natural lighthouse for incoming ships.

Once, Bocca had been the greatest naval power in the region. But time hadn’t been kind to it, and it had fallen behind its fellow city-states long before the Demons invaded.

Palmira herself hummed, sitting on a bench in front of the marble tree. The sun had started to set, and the orange light mixed oddly with the purple flames, creating a weird brownish-red color. Raising her fingers, she let her own flames flicker across them, trying to recreate the color herself.

She managed it, though the flames sputtered into smoke soon after. Despite the fact that was better than she’d managed before, it still left her frowning.

If this was the best she could do, how was she ever going to join an adventurer’s guild?

“Hey,” Lenna called out, slumping down next to her. In her hands was a loave of bread and a handful of olives. “I got dinner.”

Palmira didn’t say anything out loud, but her eyes must have given her away, because Lenna scowled. “I did the best I could, okay!? I’m sorry I’m not as good at bartering as Giulia was!”

“She’s not…” Palmira sighed, before snatching her half of the bread. She left Lenna the olives. “We’ll see her again, when she, uh, hatches.”

“Sure,” Lenna scowled, tearing at her own bread. “I’m sure she will.”

They didn’t say anything else after that. They just ate in silence, but it was a silence filled with angry words unsaid. Angry words they probably never would say.

Finally, once the bread was gone and the crumbs were licked from her fingers, Palmira broke the silence.

“We’ll be in Firozzi tomorrow. What do you think it’ll be like?”

Lenna didn’t reply, wrapping herself in her old ratty blanket. Around them, other homeless and impoverished did the same, sticking close to the heat of the marble tree as night fell.

“There’s a river, I think,” Palmira continued on instead. “People like to call it ‘the city of the red river,’ so it’s got to have one. I wonder if it’s really red? Oh, or maybe it’s got lava canals like Iscrimo! …Actually, I don’t think I’d like that. Hm…”

“…There’s supposed to be a dragon,” Lenna said at last, snuggled as deep as she could in her blankets. But she still shivered, so Palmira leaned over and shared her warmth with her. “It’s dead, from what I heard. But it’s supposed to be huge, bigger than any other in the world.”

“That sounds really cool,” Palmira smiled, wrapping her own blanket around her friend. “Do you think you’re gonna try and draw it?”

She huffed tiredly, a little bit of the haughty old Lenna shining through. “I’m not going to try. I am going to draw it. If you remember to replenish my charcoal supplies this time.”

“That was one time,” Palmira groaned, pushing a little harder into her side.

Lenna pushed back. “It was twice.”

Palmira stuck out her tongue, and smiled at the small giggle she received.

There was, and likely always would be, a Giulia shaped hole between them, but that didn’t mean they had to linger around it.

So with a twin smiles, the two girls fell asleep, the flickering lilac flames of the Holy Tree keeping them warm throughout the night.

Tomorrow, they left Bocca and, finally arrived at the city of Firozzi.

And for better and worse, that would be the end of their journey.