Joe was a lover of nights. Nyctophilia, if you wanted to get technical (that’s what she heard it was called anyway). And the nights in Triciella were as serene as they were endlessly mysterious. The inky night sky that draped upon swaying grass fields came alive with sprinkled stars, as the rest of the kingdom slept away in their cozy homes. Joe stared past the dark horizon of the west and tried to imagine the looming forest of Sandora. Would the witch of west be awake at this hour? Could she have been staring out into the abyss of the night as well?
It was half an hour past midnight, when Griffon galloped past the mighty gates of the manor. The crescent moon grinned down at the two lone riders as they crossed the vast lands of Winsten nobility and sped towards the wilderness of the fields outside. Joe clutched her shawl tighter as the sultry summer wind howled past her ears, and looked up at the cloudless sky. The flocks of eager bubblebirds cried in unison as they harmoniously flew overhead for their meals.
“The long journeys across the land remind me of the old tales of Triciella.” Remarked Nero. He was sitting behind Joe and riding with an ease that left her mildly envious. She had never ridden a horse before, and was pretty sure that she would be suffering with a sore bottom first thing tomorrow. “Do you know about the Songs of the traveler, my lady?”
“The songs of the traveler?” Joe asked him curiously, “You have any songs like that?”
Nero grinned down at her. “Aye, we do, my lady Joanna. You see, on hot summers like these, the bands of travelers prefer to travel most of the distance at night. They can be anyone: visitors, traders, merchants, performers and even adventurers. They come from all over the world; form the neighbouring kingdoms, remote villages, and far away empires across the sea.” He shook his head emphatically, “Those that come from afar often prefer traveling in groups, but really, you’d rarely ever see any bandits on your way to the King’s Highway.”
Joe processed the information with a sigh of relief. The last thing she wanted was to face any bandits on her impromptu trip to the West. “The travellers of ancient times often rode on for hours at night, and sang whimsical poems aloud to keep their drowsiness away.” Nero went on. “The poems all came into existence some thousand summers ago, right around the founding days of the kingdom, and are still passed down to this day from traveler to traveler.”
“So no one even knows how they came into being?” Joe asked with bated breath. Her curiosity was skyrocketing at an alarming rate now.
“None, my lady.” Replied the man with a sad smile. “Some folks say that these are hymns of the pixies, some say they’re folksongs of ancient kingdoms, that existed in the beginning of time. Some regard them as myths and legends, and yet others dismiss them as whimsical nonsense of drunken men. But you see, even as years pass, and the seasons come and go, nobody ever forgets them.”
Joe stared back at his smiling face in wonder, mesmerized with the tale. “And that, my lady,” he continued softly. “….was how the travelers picked up the snippets from the lands they traveled, and weaved them together into songs. The words turned into poems, the poems turned into songs, and the songs unsung remain with the travelers of night as they wander across the lands and sea, singing them along to you and me.”
The story sounded something like a fairytale, the kind you used to listen with wide, starry eyes in your childhood. But then you would grow up and lock it away in the dark recesses of memories, as your heart steeled and the mind grew cynical with age. Joe thought back to those whimsical tales of pixies and magic, in all those shining, colourful pages of her old picture books, and flinched back as a sudden wave of nostalgia washed over her.
She craned her head back to look at the man sitting behind her. “Do you know any of these songs, Nero?”
He giggled softly, as if expecting her to ask that all along. “Why, of course, my lady.” Came the cheerful reply. “Nero remembers most of the songs that he’d heard back in his childhood days. Nero grew up with them, after all! I’ll sing to you the song of fairies, the anthem of the world.”
Before she could ask him who came up those names, Nero cleared his throat purposefully. Joe felt a vague sense of déjà vu when she remembered his little song for the witch of west. If Nero had a way with words, he had a freaking Highway with songs. Unaware of her musings, the man sang to his own tune, his deep baritone resonating across the unending wilderness.
“Out in the misty fields of yore,
I come in shifting shapes and more,
And I ride along the wings of time,
Of ancient lands and fairy lore.
The stars lie down upon the trails,
Like pixie dust on a dragon’s scales
They bear the witness to my tales,
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
As I reach the yet untouched vales,
And I ride along the flickering light
Into the darkness of the night.”
The words floated up in the sky and the melody curled around her like a whimsical spell. Nero’s lilting voice soared with the wind as they rode through the night of nothingness. Joe realized that even if she knew nothing about the wonders of magic in this world, the mere song was more magical than anything she’d ever heard before.
“Beneath the waning moon, I ride,
As fleeting as the changing tide,
I fly with the wind, the bubblebirds,
I sing my songs with silent words.
And I ride with the glow of fireflies,
To the winking stars of northern skies.
Come, ye traveler of the nights,
Come see the yet unseen sights,
The witches’ lamp and devil’s dew,
Tonight the world is born anew.
Come along, the night is young,
There’s no right, where there’s no wrong.
Come ride, ride, across the shore,
To the ancient lands of fairy lore.”
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It was roughly two hours and a half past midnight, when they could see the dark silhouette of royal capital Riseindell against the looming horizon. Joe didn’t think she could recognize the vast capital from a distance, but much to her surprise there were tiny, flickering lights along the narrow streets and shadowy lanes, away from the grand city square at the center of the capital.
“Those are the inns used by the travelers of night.” Nero said as he pulled the reins to slow down Griffon. The horse trotted into a street at a leisurely pace as if he owned the place. “All through the summers, these inns are bustling with travelers and visitors from all over the land. Winters are harsh and business is bad. But in summers, these inns would stay open all through the night.”
He steered his steed into an obscure lane, down the cobblestone path away from the central market street of Riseindell. The houses were narrow and old, shrouded in shifting darkness and did not look like the kind people would live in. The rusty street lamps flickered in and out with irregular rhythms, but Griffon trotted ahead softly without a care in the world. The lane narrowed down until there was only enough space for a carriage left, and Joe squinted to see the end of the road.
For a while it seemed like there was nothing but an all consuming void at the other end, until they came up to a shady looking inn with a crooked signboard saying Evan’s Lodgings. Nero pulled Griffon to a gentle stop, and gracefully jumped down the horse. He helped her down as well and gave her another of his mysterious smiles. Before Joe could ask what they were even doing in this shady-ass inn down this shady-ass lane, he had already sauntered ahead and opened the rickety door.
When Joe followed him inside, a lone bespectacled man was sitting against a wooden table counter, with an old incandescent bulb swaying dangerously over his head. That, and a bleak table lamp on the counter were the only sources of light in the room, which was, well… surprisingly clean. The man was smoking leisurely, and looked up at the sound of their footsteps.
“Hey, I’m real sorry but there’s no room avail --- ” he began monotonously, but stopped short when he saw Nero. The blank face broke into a brilliant smile as he pushed back his chair and stood up.
“Ahahaha! Even though I knew that I’d be meeting you soon,” he came ahead hugged Nero with genuine happiness, “Ah, friend! It is really good to see you again!”
“Nathan! I see ye’r as much of a goof as ever, hmm?” Nero returned the hug good naturedly, his face beaming with a fond grin. “And if you still don’t quit yer sneaky smokin’ this time, I’mma go rat you out to Deena again, you dunderhead.” He laughed and patted the man on his back.
“Eh, we finally get to meet after a whole year and the first thing you do is threaten me, Nero?” the bespectacled man, Nathan grinned at him. “Ahahaha, I’ll bet my smokes that Deena’ll happy to see you too!”
Nero pulled away from the hug and shook his head. “Can’t stay for long, Nathan. I’ve got an important errand to run at the west.”
“Ah, you always have an errand to run at the west, my friend.” Nathan made a face, and turned to Joe for the first time. The girl was looking at him like a deer caught in headlights. She had missed the cue to introduce herself, dammit! Urgh, there was nothing more embarrassing than being a stranger caught between the reunion of two friends, awkwardly waiting for their reminiscence to come to an end.
“Aha, and who would this young lady be?” Nathan asked his friend curiously.
Nero turned with a meaningful smile. “The lady is Joanna Valeria Winsten.” He swept a hand towards her. “The firstborn of the noble house of Winsten. My Lady, this man here is my old friend, Nathaniel.”
Nathan, or rather Nathaniel glanced over Joe with a critical eye. “Ah, so she is that Joanna Winsten, hmm?” He had an expectant look on his face, as if he was curiously waiting for something to happen, but Joe really had no clue. “I suppose, I could say that I was looking forward to meet you, my lady.”
Joe didn’t like the look on his face. The man was watching her as if he’d already made his own judgement about her from all the idle gossip and rumours in the world, even before he had actually met her in person. Joe never liked prejudices, even though it was kind of inevitable that they would exist in this medieval society.
Still, this person was Nero’s friend, and from the look of things they might his need help around here. Joe mustered up all of her good manners and curtsied with a bow so elegant that it would have made Mr Forkes cry tears of joy. “A pleasure to meet you, Mister Nathaniel. My sincerest apologies for disturbing you at this hour of the night.”
Nathaniel stared back dumbly, and extended a chivalrous hand towards her. Joe supposed that she was meant to place her own hand over his so he could kiss it like those dramatic gentlemen of medieval times. Screw that, she wasn’t one for shitty drama, so she grabbed the hand and shook it back firmly.
The man blinked, once, then twice, before bursting out in a deafening fit of laughter.
Joe glared up at him with a frown. She didn’t quite think that she’d done anything to warrant that kind of laughter. Where was the professionalism in this place, dammit?!
Rather unbeknowst to her, Nero stood in a corner, smirking at his friend with a victorious grin on his face.
“Ahahahaha! I see, I see!” Nathaniel guffawed louder as he clutched his stomach harder. “I see how it is. My bad, Nero! It seemed that I’d underestimated your little lady!”
He turned to Joe once again when the laughter died down, and this time there was no condescending look in his warm eyes. “Heh, nice to meet you too! The pleasure’s all mine, my fair lady.”
This time, the mighty grin on his face was sincere yet mesmerizing.
“I am Nathaniel Ivan Fernandez, the humble owner of this place. I am an old, old friend of this guy right over there.” He jabbed a finger at Nero. “And on a trivial note, I am also the brother-in law of Her Majesty Lady Augustine, the great Queen of Triciella”