Salty smells picked up by a gentle breeze from a vast ocean assaulted Red’s nose as she sat at a table on the deck of a ferry currently heading back north. If she hadn’t left in such a huff about the Mala twins, she’d have missed it leaving harbor. This ferryman operated on a dubious timetable at best, most likely due to a lack of credentials or license to sail and trade here. Whatever the case, it made no difference to Red; she wasn’t coast guard nor in charge of tariffs involving mortal trade. So long as the tithe was paid to whatever daemon owned this section of ocean, everything would be fine.
“No telling when he’d be back, and I don’t fancy spending weeks upon weeks waiting,”
In front of her, weighing down said table, was a book, the very same she’d shown Mayor Woods, once again opened to a familiar section on werewolves. “Only thing about this that makes sense is a werewolf terrorizing a small backwater village.”
As, not only a cursed species but a universally hated one, they had to haunt the fringes of mortal society. This put them at odds with other less than agreeable creatures lurking about.
“Pickings are slim for them. At least Mermaids and Trolls can just retreat underwater or to mountain tops, provided Harpies don’t live in said mountain tops. Werewolves are stuck here; no, the real issue is it could perform magic, without incantation or artistry just pure will power. Not just any magic, shadow magic; it takes a very particular mindset to conjure and control shadows, at least all my testing last night proved it was a mage, not a wizard.”
Narrowing it down to a mage meant next to nothing, as a werewolf mage even conceptual was nonsensical. Common knowledge of history depicts their ancestors trading away the First Miracle in exchange for power and ferocity. In doing so, cursed their lineage into what they are today on top of taking away any and all ability to utilize magic.
“Except this one didn’t get that message, but the question is how, can’t just undo a millenniums worth of baked-in genetics, can’t use any of the four wishing types either,” Red grumbled.
While reading, her hand subconsciously found its way into a nearby bowl filled with assorted chocolates. Scooping several out, depositing them into her mouth till her cheeks bulged, creating a collage of different flavors that curiously brought her mind back to the Mala twins. Before, that is to say, when they were alive, both were exceptionally respectful. They even gave respect to her, a RED, someone whose family garnered less than amicable public relations with both natural and magical worlds. In all fairness, this is primarily due to the first Red’s actions, not to say two through five were paragons, but they only perpetuated what first started.
Deciding to table her thoughts on shadow-manipulating werewolves and instead focusing on the Shaman duo turned Guardians. Of course, they had every right to be mad; she did, in fact, drag a cursed corpse into their forest and turn it into a bonfire. That much was expected, but their interest didn’t extend beyond that. No lycan could last a day in any other wolf territory, except this one somehow managed to live for several months without issue. Red swallowed her treats, immediately replacing them with a strawberry-flavored lollipop, leftover melted chocolate coated a good amount of it. Something about strawberry chocolate mixture triggered a thought that led to a tangent.
“They didn’t even react when I mentioned that menace could use magic,” she started
chewing away at this line of thought like a dog with a bone. If it were anyone else with that information, they’d be well within their right to just ignore it, but I’m THE current Red Riding Hood, my people know how to kill a werewolf by five years old.”
Red’s suspension grew. She didn’t think it had anything to do with the werewolf specifically, but something wormed its way into her mind and festered like a parasite. Eventually, she had to give into her intuition, taking out a sheet of parchment she had written in her thoughts and a request for her chosen recipient. Detailing how to actually get there then folding up a spare map of the surrounding area for further assistance. That done, Red extended out her left hand and willed a silver bell to materialize; a bright afternoon sun shone off its plating with a beautiful radiance of otherworldly hue. Swinging her hand for three consecutive chimes, no sound emitted, at least no sound mortal-kind could hear.
1. To call
2. To trace
3. To hurry
Winds picked up and swirled around Red, coalescing into a single form made of bright iridescent light. The gale left as quickly as it had arrived, leaving behind a humanoid of diminutive stature, just small enough to comfortably sit within Red’s palm. It beheld a perfect complexion of blue skin made more beautiful by its aura invoking a sense of ever-lasting winter. Crowned with hair as white as the snow, all brought together by a dress of pale blues and purples; an immortal snowflake, captured in its perfection, brought to life. A winter fey.
“Daft cunt, If I’ve told yah once, I’ve told yah a thousand times, two rings no more, no less any more than that, and ya grating ma fuckin’ ears; I’m already on my bloody way after the first!” Its first words after forming were fowl and full of anger
“I need you to deliver this to Goldy,” Red said curtly, handing her folded message to the Fey, completely ignoring its irritation.
Instead of actually getting to the task, it immediately unfolded the letter and began to pour over its content, much to Red’s annoyance.
“Kicked out of a protected forest, were we,” It said a bell like giggle chimming from its lips with all enough malice it could have been used as a catalyst for a curse, complete with smug grin. “Family reputation strikes again...or maybe it’s your personal crimes~.” As if to prove a point it Fliped off Red’s hand and landing itself upon her backpack, the Fey earned a very satisfactory cringe of irritation from Red. “Its got nothing to do with that!”
“Suuurrreee, it doesn’t. Maybe the illustrious chosen just has a wounded sense of entitlement and needs to send her friends to accost an innocent, hard-working guardian.” It continued to tease and needle as was its nature to do so
Red growled, teeth grinding into her sucker, a sensation she’d experienced not too long ago“ Just deliver the damn message, and give her this too.”
She handed her messenger a piece of venison covered in brown sugar or cinnamon wrapped in transparent paper.
“Oooooh, I’m givin’ presents now too; why don’t I put a white beard on, a bloody red hat, and pack on a ton while I’m at it!” So saying it changed its dress to more of a reddish hue and sprouted a beard of ice
“Just do it. Stop acting like you’re actually doing real work! Something like this will take you what, twenty minutes at most, less time if you’d quit complaining! Then you can go back to doing absolutely nothing like you normally do.”
“You mortals are lucky the queen forces us to assist you during our off-seasons.”
Winds began to blow harder at its proclamation; a swirling vortex engulfed the ill-mannered creature; when all was calm again, it was gone, leaving nothing but the soft nippings of a cozy winter morning. Red pressed her middle and index fingers to her temples to gently massage them in small circles. In all fairness, most of this was her fault, so she couldn’t be too mad, had she rang the damn bell like she was supposed to, that conversation might have gone much better.
“Forgot to send a message to Nexus,” Red hissed, running her fingers through her hair, causing the hood to slip and reveal her face in all its scrunched-up beauty. “I’ll send it after I make land.”
The rest of her trip was uneventful and wonderfully mundane; it gave her so much time to get her thoughts in line with what she wanted to send in as a report. Ultimately deciding to just send in the bare minimum that everything had been handled; “werewolf taken care of and burned”. A report missing essential details, but having killed and burned any evidence, it was best to continue her investigation as a Red Riding Hood rather than a Nexus operative. Having someone who could not be turned away look into the forest guardians for her, at least nowhere near as quickly as they dismissed her. Now the only other end to look into was how a cursed entity could learn magic.
“Gonna need an expert in shadow magic, so I need a strong mage, but I also need an expert in curses and cursed flesh, so likely a witch or wizard. Rather not get involved with a coven if I don’t have to. That just leaves, Grimm Union, probably the only school that’ll employ witches and wizards as teachers.”
Everything about her line of thinking sounded airtight; last real issue was travel, not so much fees, but actually getting there was a hassle. Grimm Union school sat on an island by itself, far removed from any significant landmass. Thankfully, unlike the village, it was a very well-known location with more than a dozen ships frequenting it every week for various reasons.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“None of that changes the fact it’s going to take a two-day train ride just to get to the nearest port city, then an extra two days on sea.”
Holding out her hand palm up, she willed a worn leather pouch appear. As it settled, a soft jingling of presumably gold coins could be heard within. There were some perks to being a part of Nexus; for one, travel fees were either reimbursed by the organization or waved outright to be charged directly. This type of waving extended to living accommodations at inns and rudimentary repairs on weapons. Individuals were held responsible for all else, including small-owned businesses with no way of reaching out to Nexus as a whole. Regardless of how much she got for being technically a member, Red still felt it was essential to have her own finances in order for rare occasions such as bribes, traps for thieves, or... a carriage being pulled by horse, blessedly going the exact same direction as she’d have to walk.
“H-Hey excuse me!” she shouted running after the carriage
Her savior, a goblin man named Tin’Khiaq, graciously agreed to give her free passage to town, seeing as how he was already heading there to take his crops to market. Because piers accepting, unloading, and resupplying ferries needed to be reasonably large, it often times forced contractors to build an irritable distance away from the town or towns they served. In this case, five hours on foot or, thankfully, about two with horse and buggy. Red sat next to the goblin, hood pulled over her head, and leaned back, enjoying how much better service animals made life. Worth their weight in gold; honestly, she’d love to have a horse or some other riding animal to assist in transportation if they weren’t a liability. Not every operative thought like that; one in particular carried out his duties with packs of hunting dogs, another ran her prey down on horseback. Even in her family, plenty of past Reds bred attack animals; this Red in particular, was just horrible with animals; in truth, it had nothing to do with liabilities.
“Heh- can’t even teach a dog fetch,” she grumbled.
“What was that missy?” Mr.Tin inquired with a voice that befits his age, reedy with a shaky quality.
“Just thinking how bad I am with animals. Respectfully thank you for the ride, Mr.Tin,” Red answered, tilting her head in gratitude.
“Oooh, think nothin’ of it. Just wouldn’t sit right with me makin’ a youngin like you walk all day in this heat,” he laughed, stroking the long gray beard that traveled from chin to chest. “As for the animal handlin’, it’s not so hard. Just gotta remember every now and then you have to remind em’ whose boss, carrot or stick, carrot will get you much further, but you run the risk of spoilin’ them. Stick works in the short term but makes a mean ornery sucker. Take Daka and Vvitch up there, for example, I raised Daka from a foal, mostly carrot, and he’s the softest horse on the farm, but Vvitch, on the other hand, I got two years ago from another farmer who had his fill of her and almost put the poor creature down. I can’t speak to how she was raised, but the fact he actually named her Bitch speaks a lot to it. Easily upset, quick to buck, and charges almost anything, but she’s strong and resilient...I also keep her around because she reminds me of my wife, so I guess I have a soft spot for troublemakers.” He slapped his knee and cackled at his own joke, a laugh that might have sounded more apt for a witch or hag.
True to the nature of his race, Mr.Tin was exceptionally talkative and, true to his age, somewhat crass. Better still he seemed to be a straight shooter, meaning he’d only tell it how it is and not sugarcoat anything, Red’s favorite type of person. It took two hours to get to their destination pleanty of time to talk about all manner of topics. She’d learned Mr.Tin not only had several children, but he was also a great-great-grandfather whose youngest was around her age; surprising, if only for the fact that goblins didn’t tend to have prominent families. Among all mortal races, goblins reproduced the slowest, somewhere around ten births per thousand. Low birth numbers offset by ludicrously long life spans that rivaled half-elves. Mr.Tin, while he wouldn’t mention his age, had to be a couple of centuries old. The rest of their trip was made in polite company and light conversation before bidding their farewells at the town gate. Red herself needed to make arrangements for the train station to procure passage.
Standing fourth in line to buy a ticket. Red mused to herself that she was basically waiting in line, to buy a way to wait even more, to cut down on her total wait time to get from point A to point B. The most annoying reality of her job was just waiting, traveling by walking, boat, and train; it never seemed fast enough. Some would this lack of patence was a personality defect on Red’s behalf. She had places to be! True enough, some magic in the world allowed spell casters to travel massive distances in a flash, teleportation and portals, for example.
“But those are just that, magic, difficult magic at that. There’s no telling how many botched teleportation spells caused an unprepared mage, witch or wizard’s death,” she thought, moving one space up.
Of course, much easier elemental magic could be used to traverse land at speed; it just paled in comparison to a train, rendering it a moot point. She wondered how Reds ninety-eight and older got around. Trains were something that only became widespread in the past fifty years or so, around ninety-nine’s time, and made even more so in her time. As she understood how history told of such, they would have been created much earlier if it weren’t for denizens of the natural world stepping in to voice their complaints about pollution. Such complaints fell on deaf ears until daemons with much louder voices threatened another world war if an alternative wasn’t found. To that end, and in the interest of keeping relative peace, said guardians and spirits were brought on as consultants on how to make the now-current model of train, one that didn’t spew out damaging smog. Taking a step forward brought another thought on whether there would be more ways to travel in the future.
Trains are a wonder of mechanical and natural engineering, but they can’t go everywhere; primarily designed to go from one large city to another. Crossing beside or around, but never through a forest or mountain, and only four large railways exist today. If one wanted to travel by train, an individual would first have to travel to a town that operated as a hub sending and recioeving trains. Thankfully, those four railways were long and nearly spanned the entire central continent. She moved up one more space. Maybe the next invention to further aid this issue would be flying machines; already, Red could see massive amounts of problems dealing with such a thing, but aerial traversal would create a complete trinity of travel, land, sea, and air.
“Next!” a nasally voice called out.
Lost in thought as she was, Red nearly missed hearing when it was her turn. Taking a step to the ticket booth, she looked at the young man, who looked back at her expectantly.
“Going to Corsair’s Haven,” Red answered the unasked question, sliding her Nexus badge across the counter; now it was her turn to look at him expectantly.
His eyes lit up in recognition. In that moment, he sat up a little straighter as he examined the badge for authenticity. Most people tend to act differently around those who worked for, or in her case, worked with Nexus. Something like seeing a war veteran; an air of authority hung around that badge. The change in his demeanor brought a visible cringe to Red’s face. Respect was nice, but anonymity was better, but not having to pay for her own ticket was even more desirable, even with a caveat or two. He inspected the badge, nodded his head, and slid it back. When he looked up at her in realization, his eyes turned to the size of dinner plates. Red sighed heavily. She hoped he wouldn’t put two and two together.
“Y-your Red I-I-I mean Red Riding Hood,” He stammered.
“Just Red, and it’s fine, but give me my-” She tried to cut this conversation off like the head of snake before it got too troublesome.
“I am terribly sorry, Madam Red; please let me have staff take care of you until the train arrives!”
Two short breaths passed, and several men appeared, all to wait on her hand and foot, triggering another sigh, another caveat, only this time not from Nexus, her own family. Acting as bodyguards, they lead her to a waiting booth, one considerably nicer than others by leaps and bounds. Every given train had nine cars, three provided for each social class, commoner, business, and royal. Red grumbled under her breath, cursing ninety-nine’s hubris. In the woman’s time, she not only worked with Nexus but, in her spare time, rapidly expanded the Red family lands in all feasible directions. Turning it from a condensed village to a town to a city, which happened to be an entire peninsula, THEN began a campaign to conquer land on both central and eastern continents. Now, the Red estates, and she had no other word to describe them now other than as such, roughly equaled a duchy. Since Reds are considered matriarchs or patriarchs, she preferred leader, technically means that all chosen Red Riding Hoods are arch duchesses or dukes.
“Which unfortunately makes me royalty, dammit one idiotic ambition single highhandedly makes my job so much harder, and I’m the second idiot who forgot about it.”
Because she was considered royalty, her name would be recorded and sent via message spell to the next train station to ‘warn’ them they would receive an ‘honored guest.’
“Then, in turn, they will deduce where I’m actually going, then they’ll send my name to the academy, not counting how many are going to leak that information about a traveling royal as news or just information to trade, dammit ninety-nine; you couldn’t just leave well enough alone could you.”
Red buried her face in her hands, trying to control the inevitable headache that was indeed about to come on.
“Goldy, please don’t make too many waves; just investigate and send me a message via fey. Please don’t do something to tip off anyone.”