Paved streets, adorned with flowers and plants, entered F'illub'iter's view. The cold winds of The Lands were designed by the greatest Fae to ever toy with an Essence to facilitate higher flight speeds across the whole world, allowing F'illub'iter and many others like them to cut across the vast plains which separated every household and community. With each passing second and metre, the feeling of reluctance and loss filled F'illub'iter little by little.
The world of the Others, humans, elves, dwarves, and more, was far more fraught with poverty. Even the wild fruit in those places could be poisonous. Whether F'illub'iter liked it or not, they were headed for hardship. That was only just dawning upon them, and it was a hard truth to swallow.
It won't be so bad, they thought to themself, to no avail.
Eventually F'illub'iter arrived at the capital. Many other Fae of many different shapes and sizes were also flying in from outside. Tall or short, fat or thin, burly or supple, many different Fae dressed in the colours of the rainbow were gathering from outside. The streets grew increasingly packed. F'illub'iter turned sharply and suddenly, nearly colliding with a taller, tiny-eyed fae, and headed straight for the front garden of the palace. As they did, conversations started tuning in and out.
"Can't believe we will have to interact with those dirty rabble."
"I hear the cities they built are more refined. The walls keep the unwashed at bay."
"Are you actually planning to carry all of that? Just getting it here drained you of all your glamour."
"I've not had much to eat. (...) No it wasn't because I'm nervous, someone turned all the berries in our garden poisonous."
F'illub'iter finally landed in the garden. Everywhere you could look flowers were blooming and trees were growing, all dutifully maintained by various homunculi, little beings designed for whatever job needed doing. Goats were often prised for being able to be converted in good gardening homunculi. F'illub'iter nearly tripped over one running with a watering can in hand.
The palace itself was an architectural masterpiece. Domes dotted the entire roof, between them arches and pyramids combining them all into rectangular shapes. Large stained windows depicted the numerous feats of his highness, be it his coronation in which he proclaimed the date of death of every single challenger or pretender as his first act, or the holding up the heavens and all the stars, beginning the Week of Dreaming and ending the Winter.
"Breathtaking isn't it?" a high-pitched voice spoke from behind.
A short and stout Fae walked into view. They were a Ba'lder, wearing an outfit that more resembled a set of armour than a ceremonial dress. A hat or a helmet covered his entire head in a shiny metal, leaving a circular hole in the middle covered in silk as a visor. The shoulder pads were square, the hips equally so, but the outside edges of the chest and the inside edges of the arms were wavy, altogether giving the appearance that if this Ba'lder held their limbs close and unmoving, they would resemble a block of stone more than a person. All of that was covered in a layer of dark blue and purple paint in thin layers, combining and separating at various points.
"What? Ye really ur surprised another, from a different clique wuid broach conversation? We're all kin ur we not?" the voice gave a hearty laugh, F'illub'iter thought it felt forced.
"No, not at all." replied F'illub'iter. "Just lost in thought, that's all."
"His highness not showing up does that to ye. I bet he does it on purpose, remind us who's in charge."
"I'm sure he's busier than all the rest of us."
"No' better than a Ba'lder that's for sure. Let's go back to my subject. Who dae ye think built it all. Ba'lders, every brick or rock." they said proudly.
"Don't let any Etha'gwins hear it. If you don't credit their window making, there will be a scandal before we even get told which wispways leads us to the Other world."
"Windows ur jus' for show. Walls and Pillars ur where it's at." The Ba’lder’s accent rolled it’s Rs heavily, and had a distinct lack of Vowels. F’illub’iter had to try to understand parts of the sentence sometime which was irksome.
While talking, a crowd had gathered around them, all waiting in anticipation for the beginning of the Exile of Chronicles. Murmurs and whispers filled the quiet of the morning. No one was flying, as no one dared fly without permission in his highness's presence. He wasn't in sight, but he could appear at any moment, and nobody wanted to be the one to commit the faux pas.
"How do you plan to fly in that thing? Your suit looks too big and clunky for any flight."
"I won't. I like the ground better anyways, it actually holds ye, instead of just pushing ye round and round."
As the idle chatter intensified, homunculi began flying in and out with different furniture. Chairs primarily, which were shoved underneath the crowd to their protests and offence. By the time everyone was seated a lectern was brought and a number of kin stood by its sides. These kin were all dressed in the royal reflective garments. made out of two pieces bent over the shoulders and combined in the middle. No discernible pattern emerged from their garments, but as the homunculi began covering the grass and plants with drapes and rugs, a constellation pattern emerged on the garments. The 2 coins, the constellation of good luck, and greed.
Behind them, a long white stone pathway, going up several sets of each 3 stairs into the front door of the palace, opened, and through it a white figure walked out. Bigger than all the faeries, it took slow, methodical steps walking towards the crowd. Everyone went silent in anticipation, without a doubt that was the King Mem'arch. Each footstep rang out and suppressed any odd murmur.
Mem'arch, First among Kin and Watcher of the Horizon, himself was a pale-blue old man. His face lacked minor blemishes, but had wrinkles. He was bald, but made up for it in the beard, growing long and white, almost blending with his light-blue skin, ending on a flat plane, pointed slightly away. His eyes were of regular size, the pupil covered with a galaxy-like pattern. On top, circling the forehead was a simple golden crown, comprised of a ring, with large teeth cut out from the top half. Above the peak of each tooth a small pitch-white light rests floating slightly above. His wings were butterfly-like, one of them blue, the other one orange, both backgrounded by black, and covered in many white dots.
Eventually he reached the lectern, staring down upon the crowd.
"You have all been chosen for a noble purpose." Mem'arch begun his speech. His voice was deep and boomed. "Our job as Fae is to record. and understand all the knowledge there is. There wouldn't be such a need for, if the other species were not so self-destructive, bringing doom to their own masses every other century. The next such event is approaching, and so you have been called. As chroniclers you are already aware of the importance and difficulty of your quest. Worry not. You are not journeying unaided, your peers and your guardians have worked tirelessly to provide equipment that will assist you to become independent."
From the side, as Mem'arch stopped speaking, a bigger crowd carrying bags arrived: kin who helped set up everyone's supplies. Most were grouped in 2s, some in 3s, and some had more. F'illub'iter's gaze darted quickly through the crowd, and eventually spotted just 1 kin that they recognised. A mixture of relief and disappointment washed over them.
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"Of course, there's a gift from me as well. The barrier of language is an obstacle that's immensely difficult to overcome. Because of this, we have caught Will-o-the-wisps, and tied their nature to a homunculi that will assist you in your endeavours. For as long as you are together, the Will-o-the-wisp will catch and filter spoken language, and change it, so you may be unburdened by the linguistic gaps between their kinds.”
In front of each kin, muscular cyclops homunculi walked with ornate boxes on their heads, about 30 cm tall. Just enough to reach one's knee.
"Open them, meet with your own, and in an hour we shall set you forth on the wispways." Mem'arch said, before stepping down and exiting into the palace.
"Fit's your name? Would dae good to find each other in the Other world after we split." the Ba'lder began speaking again.
"F'illub'iter. Though I wouldn't count on it."
"Naw need ta’ be sour. We'll meet. I'm Iro'van. Be seeing you on the Other side! Look for the Mountains of Mour, I'll be going thir." Ba'lder said while walking away box in 1 hand.
F'illub'iter shrugged him off. There's no reason why they'd do the mission with another Fae, and no reason why they would stick around with F'illub'iter. They flew over towards the only person they recognised in the crowd. Their guardian while their parent was preoccupied with more important business, La'ial.
F'illub'iter thought La'ial was a lot like their parent, distant, and bearing as many expectations as there could be. All things considered they did not need a guardian, but La'ial’s contract had stipulated it would only be complete when F'illub'iter found a home of their own, and he Chronicler Exile threw a wrench in those plans, thus La'ial stuck around.
"La'ial, how come you're here and not my parent?" F'illub'iter said while dropping their package at their feet.
"They are busy. Your kit is here. Make sure not to waste what's inside. Make it last."
"Of course, I've spent too much time reading about rationing to make a mistake like that."
The bag was large and green, big enough that it would be cumbersome to run or fly with. Across it were many pockets all tied with buttons or string, and each pocket had something potentially useful within, such as more books, ink, fire pistons, and much more.
"You really did not cut corners. There's everything in here!" F'illub'iter remarked, examining the bag.
"It would bring great shame to us if you failed in your quest due to our lack of preparation. We expect you to come back unscathed and with all of your books filled."
"That's the plan. Have you been a chronicler yourself? Any final tips?"
"No. Kin I know who have, have always praised the homunculi provided, they're sturdier and stronger than they look. Treat them as a squire, but do not be afraid to ask them for directions or guidance."
F'illub'iter nodded.
The two spoke for a while longer and half an hour later, they said their goodbyes. Now on their own, F'illub'iter joined the queue to leave The Lands Between and Beyond behind for the first time. Before joining it, however, they had one last task that needed solving.
The box.
Opening it revealed the top compartment containing a ball of light, a Will-o-the-wisp, that gently and idyllically levitated into the air. It made a few loop de loops and finally entered into F'illub'iter's forehead. The bottom container had a sleeping homunculi. One large eye, with a rectangular build that bulged with muscles. Its skin was dark green, and its mouth spanned from edge to edge. It wore a plain white tunic, and trousers, and judging by how nobody had their homunculi by their side, they probably would not awake until the journey was complete. Hopefully it will have awakened by then.
The wait in the queue was agonising in both a good and bad way.
It could not move fast or slow enough. They noticed Iro’van 3 steps in front of them. After around 20 minutes of waiting, the bag and the box started to make their weight known, the straps digging into their shoulders, and the box cutting into and weakening the joints of their fingers. Luckily, his highness was ahead, manually passing a waytoken, expensive miniaturised navigational instructions, and the only real way of arriving at a specific point in the world, rather than just wherever.
Iro'van received his, and F'illub'iter watched his highness whisper something to him. The other kin in front of them also received the same treatment.
Then, at long last, it was F'illub'iter's turn.
Mem'arch grabbed from another kin a token, and palm open towards the sky handed it to F'illub'iter.
"T-thanks." said F'illub'iter grabbing the token, at the height of their nerves.
Mem'arch then leaned in, and whispered.
"True strength comes from many diverse friends. You won't succeed on your quest alone. Seek them out."
Before F'illub'iter could process or understand the message, they were ushered forward into the next area. The queue lead to a circular stone floor, with many white marble archways around the edges, each one emitting blue light, as they revealed a pathway turning and twisting into circles.
Wispways, tunnels that connect The Lands with the Other world.
A common but incorrect name for them would be portals, but portals only worked within the same plane, rather than connecting between them.
"This wispway right here. Hold your waytoken tight, or who knows where you'll land!" said a fae in simple monochromatic robes, beaming an ear-to-ear smile.
F'illub'iter smiled back, and filled with anxiety, walked through the arch.
No one said anything about how terrifying going through one could be. At first glance it seemed it would be a regular trip, but having to hold onto a big box, a small token, and a gigantic bag at the same time while you are being thrown, spun, twisted, and moved around at the speed of a professional flyer, really made one panic.
All around F'illub'iter, there were light blue lines in simple semi-transparent V shapes, constituting the tunnel, pointing towards the destination, but it was difficult to nigh-impossible to process what was hidden beyond through all the fear and the spinning.
Eventually, the end of the tunnel was in sight.
Deep into a forest in the land of Dogmia, adventure was waiting.