Kosram gave all five kids a sly grin before he tossed in a bit of powder into the hearth. It was flour and harmless but, the misdirection was necessary. Not that any of the other patrons would notice. They were all clustered around the north-end of the hearth. He and the children were hidden by the large stack of split wood on the south side, meant to feed this fiery beast.

But if any of these kids had Potential, Kosram wasn’t going to be the one to unleash them upon Tendorvasht.

As the children's’ eyes watched the flames gobble the powder greedily, he began to cast Prestidigitation, a simple cantrip. He muttered the incantation under his breath. His left hand, stretched out as far as he dared from his hiding spot, towards the hearth. He twisted it until the palm faced the ceiling above.

The flames nestled in the hearth before him began to change.

Tendrils of red were dyed blue, tongues of orange shifted to purple. The warm glow darkened to a dimness that almost seemed..sinister. The scorching heat had died down but the flames themselves still blazed like before.

Circled around the hearth, the other patrons - a few stout Duran traders and some locals - had been animatedly chatting to one another over plates of bacon, freshly-baked bread, and porridge.

Now, however, they were caught in this cold glow he had conjured. The clamor simmered to quiet tones, which faded to soft murmurs before dying down entirely. Uncertain glances were shared as they stared at the unnatural pyre.

Kosram breathed in deeply. Through the wood smoke, he could smell the most delectable of scents - fear. It was like the whistling of an arrow in flight, cutting through the serenity of the wood. You couldn’t help but notice it, have your senses rivet upon it.

Marisa, the eldest of the bunch, peered through a hole in the woodpile and smirked.

“They look terrified, Kos,” she whispered as she cradled the youngest of the bunch. The little one was barely ten months-old; he wasn’t old enough to be Named.

“Just wait,” Kosram whispered back before responding with a grin of his own. “Listen to this, kidlets. ” He pulled out a bit of fleece from a belt pouch. Rubbing it between two of his fingers, he closed his eyes and put his right index finger and middle finger together before curling them inwards towards his palm.

A low whistling began to fill the lodge. Quiet at first; it was faint enough that a man might think he was imagining it. But, at Kosram’s beckoning, it grew louder and shriller. He opened an eye and peaked around the corner of the woodpile.

The other patrons were wide-eyed, clutching one another. Their breakfast was forgotten as their eyes darted around the room, from ceiling to corner to even the floor in search of a source. A quick sniff was enough to tell him that these folks were fingers away from pissing themselves.

The kidlets snickered away, jabbing one another with elbows and trying to smother their mirth with their little hands.

Now, for the final touch.

Luckily for him, his concentration could maintain at most three spells. The fleece fell free of his fingers just as it turned to ash. While retaining the somatic form of the last cantrip with his right hand, he grabbed another bit of fleece.

Kosram conjured memories of his old mentor. The old orc’s voice was perfect for intimidation after all; Kosram knew that better than anyone.

It was gravely and it seemed to rumble in the belly before being expelled through the mouth. It was loud, even at a whisper. It could command a room and be heard through the din of the loudest of taverns.  He heard Graug’s voice in his head.

Graug had a flair for the dramatic and tended to over-emphasize words. Particularly, the second word in a sentence. As an embellishment, Kosram threw in a touch of dripping scorn and disregard.

Using all of his dexterity, Kosram performed the Minor Illusion cantrip once more with just one hand this time. Not bad, Kos. Not bad.

A voice roared from the hearth. “Who dares disturb my slumber!”

Perfect.

All of the Patrons jumped, looking wildly about. One of the Dura, a barrel-chested fellow with his beard woven into two-braids, leaned towards one of his companions.

“It’s a ghost I tell ya” he whispered. His voice was low as if trying to not provoke whatever had spoken. Cute. “This lodge be haunted!”  

Kosram shushed the children who are on the verge of bursting out laughing. It was an awkward gesture, trying to put his index finger to his lips while maintaining two somatic forms.

The kidlets gave him one collective look before devolving into snickers. But they quieted themselves.

“I am Graug!” roared the Voice. Kosram motioned with his left hand, coaxing the hearth’s flames to grow in size. The hearth burst into a towering pyre, filling the room with blinding firelight. The Patrons shrunk back, gasping out loud.“And I warn thee! Leave this place and never come back or you shall suffer my wrath!”

A couple by the names of Falon and Christa, one of the few folks he could see from his hiding spot, scampered to their feet before bolting out of sight. Kosram heard the door slam open before fluttering back and forth at the force of their passing.

Time for the finale.

“You have been warned! Flee or forever be damned as I!”

With that, Kosram let go of his two cantrips. The conjured sounds faded. His hands, sore from maintaining the somatic forms, had one last job to perform. He clapped his hands together, before folding and interlacing all of his middle and index fingers together. The hearth’s fire was snuffed out instantly. All that was left was darkness and silence.

Then, a stampede of thundering feet, cursing, and swearing filled his ears as did the *slam!* of the door before fluttering back and forth. It was punctuated by cries of, “Ghosts! Gods be damned Ghosts!” and “Cursed! We are all doomed!”.

Kosram waited a few moments before peering over the woodpile. The lodge was empty save for him and the kidlets. He looked down at the children. They looked back at him.

And they all burst out laughing. A child’s laughter was the most beautiful sound in the world. It warmed Kosram’s heart like a lover’s warm embrace.

“That was incredible!” said Rendval. “I can’t believe everything went according to plan! Kos, you are amazing!” 

“I know right!” Salor said. “I want to learn how to cast! I want to be a Wizard!”

He and his twin brother started to cry and wail dramatically in unison. “ ‘Oh Gods! There be a ghost!’ Haha! I’ve never seen a Dwarf run so fast!”

Marisa narrowed her eyes at that. She gave custody of her brother to Vel, the last of this rag-tag bunch, and promptly smacked the backs of both brothers’ heads.

“Ow!” They both rubbed their heads in unison. “What wa-”

“No name-calling! You know what Ma and Pa would say if they heard ya calling any Dura that.”

“Your sister is right,” Kosram said with a small smile. He sat down beside the hearth and cast Prestidigitation again. The hearth burst to life once more, crackling away as a mundane fire. “You can play tricks on others, you can poke fun, but never do so when your sole intent is to be mean or cruel.” Or if you are deep in your cups.

He looked up to find all the kids bull rushing him, oblivious to his words. They surrounded him like a pack of wolves, clamoring for his attention.

Cast some more spells, Kos! Please please please!” Salor said, shaking his arm.

Marisa nodded in agreement. “What you can do is so much cooler then what the Priests can do!”

Kosram frowned. “Were you kids even listening to me?”

Even Vel, quietly cradling her brother, plodded up to him and gently tugged against his shirt sleeve. “Please, Kos.”

He let out a sigh. Guess I’m still not cut out for this.

“Oh, like I could say no.” He began to roll up the sleeves of his loose robes. Just a harmless Dancing Lights cantrip would do. The kids loved it when he conjured numerous orbs of light and juggled them. But before he uttered a single word, the door to the lodge slammed open. Sunlight streamed into the lodge, temporarily blinding Kosram as he moved a hand to shield his eyes.

Standing in the doorway was Larisa Aden, Mistress of the Aden Lodge.

Her hands were on her hips as she glowered down at Kosram and the kidlets. She had pulled her hair into a pony-tail and wore a blue and red traditional Vorshan headband. Behind her stood a sheepish man, her husband Denval, carrying a basket of what looked to be vegetables. He and Kosram locked eyes and the older man gave him a small wave.

Larisa stormed into the lodge, her course set to collide with Kosram. “Kosram, may I have a word?” she said, speaking in Orgashk. Her voice was sickeningly sweet, a terrifying tone when spoken in such a harsh tongue, and she gave him a forced smile.

Kosram felt his blood go cold, just before she grabbed him by his ear and hauled him outside the door.

※

“Kosram, by Iron and Fire, I’ve had it with you! Krashkavag! How an Eldritch Knight could act so irresponsibly is beyond me!”

He just stood there as Larisa roared at him in the street, in broad daylight. With a blue sky above, barely marred by a cloud, it was the perfect Sunday. The streets were still a bit muddy from last night’s rain but the warmer temperatures would hopefully return the street to its former dirt glory.

But even if the streets were mostly empty, that didn’t mean folk didn’t witness his tongue-lashing. Neighbors peered through their closed blinds to observe the ruckus outside. The few folks that were passing by took one look at this tongue lashing and hurried along as quickly as they could. Kosram could only imagine what they were thinking. Most folk this far south didn’t see a lot of Orcs or half-blooded Uruks like him. Maybe she spoke in Orgashk to at least give them some privacy. He wasn’t really sure.

Orgashk was a guttural tongue; it grated against the ears and relied very heavily on consonants and bestial growls. To the unlearned, it sounded almost like a rabid wolf was yowling for blood. Also, it had a very extensive list of swear words. It felt like he was back Home suffering one of Pa and Ma’s brutal lectures.

‘You’re lucky no one else knows you’re a Knight. Otherwise, I imagine that the Lady Castellan herself would be hearing complaints about your conduct!”

Kosram opened his mouth to speak but Larisa thrust a finger into his face.

“Do not interrupt! My axe isn’t close to being sharpened yet!”

“Please, just talk to me,” he said, bulling onward anyway. “What happened?”

She began to pace back and forth, not even looking at him as she continued to rant. “There are wild tales flooding the Outerwalls that my lodge is haunted! Even cursed! Ah those blasted cowards, the Milwoads! Ufdak Im! No stones I tell you!”

Larisa stopped her pacing and gave him a baleful stare. “And, those Dura were demanding compensation for risking their lives! Compensation, ha! Like you could contract a curse like some disease! They weren’t willing to pay for any of the food they’ve eaten either! It took Denval speaking to them to at least have them wait until I got to the bottom of this mess!”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

She tugged at her ponytail in thought. “If we are lucky, we can sort out all this out but the damage you have done to my reputation, my family’s reputation, is unforgivable!”

“I can fix this!” Kosram reached into his coin pouch. He hadn’t spent that much since his last hunt. There had to be at least two hundred silver pieces in there. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay the Dura and I’ll apologize to them and the Milwoads. It was my fault after all.”

Larisa scoffed. “That won’t help. Folk around here have wizened up to you, Kosram. People are tired of dealing with your shenanigans. Doesn’t matter that you hunt monsters and make the woods safer. The Milwoads even threatened to go to the Lawmaster.”

Kosram froze. “You can’t be serious-”

“Don’t worry,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I talked them out of it. It was easy. No one wants to draw the ire of that woman. But Kos you’ve got to pull yourself together! I haven’t asked a lot of questions since you turned up out my doorstep but” - she reached into her apron and pulled out a folded letter - “these keep showing up.”

Kosram took the letter. It was made of fine parchment and was sealed by green wax. There was an impression in the wax - two bull’s horns with an axe between them. He tucked the letter away into a pouch, unopened.

“Thank you, Larisa. You and your family have been too good to me.”    

She stared at him. All the ire she had before had bled away finally, leaving behind a tired-looking woman.

“Can you please talk to me? Why are you still in Tendorvasht? You finished your service, the Order rewarded you handsomely, and they sent you on your merry way. Why haven’t you gone home yet? I imagine your family is worried sick about you.”

She nodded to the pocket the letter was stowed away in. Gods, why was Larisa so damn sharp?

“I-um. That is to say….” How could he tell her? That he was scared to go home? That the reason he joined up was to get away from home? Would she understand? Would anyone? Or would she just stare at him with utter contempt and loathing like those folks that knew that truth did?    

Kosram closed his mouth. They faded into an awkward silence. Larisa continued to stare at him before just shaking her head.

Now that he thought about it - he sniffed at the air - something smelled off about Larisa. Most folks didn’t know it, but one’s scent and sweat could be read as easily as a face when it came to emotions. Larisa stank of regret, sorrow, but also resolute in her choice.

At that moment, the lodge’s door opened once more. Denval stepped outside, stooping so his head didn’t bang against the doorframe.

He was holding Kosram’s pack and his weapon’s belt. His bedroll had been fastened to the top and, based off how all the pockets were bulging, all of his gear looked to be packed back inside. Even his cast-iron pan, which the Adens had been borrowing for cooking, was tied to one of the straps and hung down the right side.

Before the door swung closed, Kosram saw the Aden children staring at him with sorrowful eyes. Marisa waved at him mouthing, “Goodbye” before it shut.

Denval strode up to Kosram, staring him in the eye. He handed Kosram his pack and belt before clapping him on his right shoulder.

“Good luck, Kos.”

Kosram stood there, dumbstruck, as the man fled back inside.

Larisa let out a deep sigh before speaking. “We want you to leave. We can’t have you living under my roof, threatening our livelihood and also getting our children into mischief. This was the sixth prank in a matter of weeks, Kosram! I can’t believe you indulged them again! Especially after the chicken stampede!”

“But Larisa, I’ll fix this! Just let me apologize to those Dura! By the Gods above and below, I’ll pay whatever compensation they are asking. I’ll give them extra!”

“No.” She held up a hand. “Not all problems can be fixed with a bit of silver. I have made up my mind. You reap what you sow, Kos. I’m sorry.”

They stood there in silence. Kosram looked down at the pack leaning against his legs. He strapped on the weapon’s belt, checking his two short swords and daggers. He then slowly reached down, picked it up, before putting it on.

“I’ll still be in Tendorvasht if you need me,” Kosram said. “I’ll send word when I’ve found a place of my own. And coin of course. That won’t stop just because I don’t live here anymore. If you ever need me, I’m your man. And, thank you for everything. Really.”

He took one long look at Larisa, who was pointedly not staring at him, before beginning to walk away.

“Kos.” He stopped and looked back. Denval had returned. He held hands with his wife, looking at her pointedly before nodding to him. Larisa sighed before continuing. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for us. As angry as I am, you aren’t…banished from the Lodge. You can still come by once a week to see the kids and eat dinner with us.”

“T-thank you,” he said. He turned around fully and gave them a bow.

“Kos, you are a good man,” Larisa said. “But, let me tell you something - you are going to be a terrible father one day. You can’t always indulge the children, no matter how much you want to make them smile. Trust me, you’ll understand one day when you have a child of your own.”

Kosram felt his chest tighten up at her words. Even Larisa, unknowingly, thought he wasn’t ready. But, he forced himself to smile. “Always with the words of wisdom, Larisa. Thank you.”

“And contact your family! It isn’t right to make them worry!”

He nodded, before looking to Denval. “Denval.”

“Kos. Till next week?”

He nodded once more before walking down the street once more.

※

After walking throughout the entire Outerwalls district for three hours, Kosram hadn’t found any inn, tavern, lodge, or home willing to house him.

A few, such as Grumpy Gordon spat at him when he dared to show his face. The owners of the Overflowing Tankard threatened to send for the Crownsguard if he did not get off their property! Larisa was right; most of these folks wanted nothing to do with him.

Munching on a piece of warm, freshly baked bread, Kosram found himself staring at the South Gate.

Like the Innerwall, it was formed from gray stone and rose to nearly twenty spans tall. The massive arch-shaped doors were wide open and would be until the tenth bell of the evening rang.

Crownsguard in bronze scale mail and plate patrolled the battlements above and manned the gate below. Their round wooden shields bore the Queen’s Crest - a crimson leaf lying upon a sword. Two hounds lay nearby in the shade of a tree, leashed to wooden stakes and overseen by a hooded Houndmaster in black and crimson. Most of the Crownsguard were Dura although a few humans, gnomes, hobbits, and Uruks bore the Crimson robes.

Although they patrolled the various neighborhoods and boroughs of the Outerwalls district, the Crownsguard presence was thicker here. Some said it was because the Councilors of Tendorvasht had been more vocal in their displeasure at the Crown’s most recent policies. The Crownsguard were like vultures flying above, waiting for anyone to step a toe out of line. “The Eyes of the Queen” some called them in low tones and whispers. Kosram took a vicious bite from his bread.

He hated Crownsguard.

But, beggars couldn’t be choosers. The establishments of the Innerwalls would be pricey but they would never turn away anyone with coin.

He strode forward, joining the line, and shuffled along like everyone else. Taking a single whiff told him all that he needed to know. Most of these folks were impatient, angry, and frustrated. The line wasn’t moving too fast then. He groaned inwardly. Gods above and below.

In the forty minutes, it took him for him to get to the front of the queue, several individuals had been turned away.

Kosram couldn’t puzzle out the criteria for entry. Some folks, such as a blue-robed Dragonborn with lilac scales and curling horns jutting from his temples, were let in immediate with nary a word exchanged.

However, when an elf trader was next in line, the Duran Crownsguard shook his head instantly. She tried to protest her denied entry but the Crownsguard before her simple drew his sword and ordered her to leave.

The elf spat out a curse before turning and storming off. Kosram stepped forward and assumed a parade rest position, hands behind his back and feet shoulder-width apart.

The Crownsguard, a Duran with long black hair wore the four gray knots of a sergeant, looked him up and down and smirked.

Kosram looked at himself as well. Although he had cast an illusion to make himself look human version of himself, he’d forgotten to change his clothes. He hated to admit it but his robes were a little worn through. They were beginning to fray at the hemline. And his leather jerkin was a bit dirty as well. He wouldn’t let himself in.

“What’s your business in the Innerwalls?”

“Looking for lodging, Soldier.” Kosram tried to muster as much authority into his voice as possible. If he had to play that card, he might as well play the part.

“Soldier, huh?” The Crownsguard laughed at that. “That’s Sergeant to you, Citizen. Well, I imagine that there are plenty of inns and lodges for you in the Outerwalls. Might I suggest the Aden Lodge? Good food and ale. Warm place.”

“I am looking for lodging in the Innerwalls,” Kosram said. He reached towards his neck and pulled free his amulet for all to see. It was a simple bronze disk inlaid with an emerald. The emerald was carved into a sword - the sigil of the Order of the Eldritch Knights. “If I wanted lodging in the Outerwalls I wouldn’t be here, Soldier.”

The Crownsguard paled before saluting him. “M-m-my apologies, my lord! I didn’t know!” He bowed low to him. “No one told me a Knight would be arriving!”

“That’s alright,” Kosram said, nodding sagely. “My visit was a matter of circumstance and was unexpected.”

“Of course! I can send a runner to the Lady Castellan-”

“No need. I do not want to stretch your ranks thin…Sergeant. May I enter then?”

The Crownsguard stepped aside and bowed low. “Please. And we welcome you to Tendorvasht!”

Kosram nodded before striding forwards. Urtash would be so proud. He could almost hear his voice bellowing in his left ear.

Conduct yourself like a true Knight! If you wish to respect your position and deserve the respect given to it, you must act like a Knight! Folk will not listen to a buffon! They want a leader, someone powerful and regal!

The other Crownsguard and line-waiters eyed him warily, whispering to one another without taking their eyes off of him. One such whisper reached his ears. “But he’s so young! I tell you, that Knight can’t be older than twenty-five winters! Same age as my boy, I would know!”

He hated to play that card. Keeping that aspect of his identity a secret had allowed him to live in Tendorvasht for nearly half a year in relative anonymity. Now, word would spread that an Eldritch Knight was in Tendorvasht. The possibility of the Lady Castellan seeking him out was a possibility now. He had to tread carefully, or trouble would find him. Retired he may be, but duty was always calling.

Stepping into the Innerwall District was like stepping into another world.

What surrounded him was a landscape of stone. While the Outerwalls relied heavily on wood and thatch, stone was used in abundance to the point that even the streets were paved. The streets here were wider, allowing for easy carriage access and no traffic jams. Most folk, either the well to do or Bluebloods, wandered the streets in groups flanked on all sides by guards and servants.

Kosram noticed most of these wealthier Tendorians wearing single gloves on the right hands. He had forgotten that the Tenets were still followed here; not so much in the Outerwalls, it would seem.

He recalled that the Followers of the Tenets had strange customs, especially when it came to wealth and greed. Hence, no street stalls with merchants hawking their wares openly. It was considered sinful. All decent business was done under the privacy of a roof and away from prying eyes.

Ducking into an alleyway, Kosram quickly dropped his own illusion spell, shivering a little as his real skin settled back in.

He returned to the street, politely nodding to a noble party that blatantly stared at him. It was then that Kosram noticed a disturbance further down the street. Most steered clear, visibly going around what appeared to be two Crownsguard talking to someone. They blocked his view of the person.

The closer he came the clearer their words became, as did the angry tones of their voices.

“Alright, little one,” said the right one. He was a burly human man, at least six spans tall. His head was looked to be completely shaved under his helmet. And, Kosram wrinkled his nose, he smelled like rotting onions. Great, he would have to scrub his nose to get rid of that scent. “Tell us how you got that book! There’s no way a street rat like yourself stole this. Who do you work for?”

“Ease off, Nandor!” said his partner, a willowy woman with long black hair. She stood with her left hand resting on her longsword and the other hand gripping the Onion Guard’s shoulder. “She’s just a kid! No need to get your trousers all knotted up.”

She let go of her partner’s shoulder and dropped down on one knee. This allowed Kosram to finally see the source of this commotion.

It was a little girl.

Duran based on her stout, more compact figure. Her hair was long and woven into a tight braid that ran down her right shoulder. Her clothes, however, were dirty and ragged. She wore a tunic two-sizes too big, which could’ve been green but was so thoroughly stained it was almost brown. The trousers she wore fit her well enough.

The little girl hugged this massive book as if it was a prized toy. The leather-bound cover was dyed a deep purple and etched with arcane silver runes. Before Kosram’s eyes, he saw the runes swirl across the cover like autumn leaves caught in a gust of wind. They settled back down but that little bit of evidence confirmed it - that was a wizard’s tome.

“Please talk to us, miss,” said the female Crownsguard. Her voice was on the edge of pleading. “You see, we’ve been looking for a book like this all across the Queendom. We just want to know how you got it and then take it far away. It’s dangerous.”

The girl tightened her grip on the book and pointedly looked away from the Crownsguard. Her eyes were calculating as they scanned her surroundings. This little one was looking for a way out, somewhere to bolt too. But, he swore he saw a bit of fear in them too.

Kosram finally noticed something odd. The index and middle fingers of both her hands were tied together with bits of string. Suspicious, Kosram looked around conspiratorially. No one paid him the slightest bit of attention.

He opened his right hand as wide as he could and touched the tips of his index fingers together. Then, using his left, he pushed the right index finger until it formed a circle with his right thumb. He muttered an incantation under his breath.

Colorful auras manifested before his eyes. A few of the passing noble parties, mainly guards, were now wreathed in rainbow auras. It wasn’t odd to arm your guard with magical tools and weapons. However, focusing on the little girl confirmed his suspicions.

Both the tome she clutched and her whole body bore magical auras. The book burned with iridescent flame, the aura dancing to and fro to the tune of a non-existent wind. The little girl’s aura was colored a shimmering purple.

“Illusion magic,” he muttered. Kosram let his somatic form drop. The aura’s faded from his vision.

The little girl still hadn’t responded and the Onion Guard, Nandor, stepped in.

“Alright, you little piece of horse shit!” he growled. “You are gonna talk one way or another. Here with us or back at the Garrison! The Lawmaster and her Interrogators would love to speak to you about how you got this book.”

The little girl trembled but still she did not speak. Her eyes darted this way and that, her body tensed. She was getting ready to bolt. That was the worst possible thing she could do.

These Crownsguard saw a potential criminal. Kosram just saw a little girl, all alone in the world, with no parents.

He hurried towards the trio, propelled by guilt or some other force he wasn’t sure.

“Ursa?” he cried out. His hurried pace turned into a trot. “Ursa, that is you!”

What the hell am I doing? He thought as the two Crownsguard turned to face him. Kosram gave them his best-winning smile.