A great black bird flew over a sea of flickering lights as it used a handful of powerful flaps to finally get the height it needed for its final destination. Far above the city of Portsmouth, the raven dove into a great circular tower as it spread its wings to slow down and came to a roost on a heavy iron beam situated in the center of the room. Several pairs of tiny hands immediately rushed over to take care of the bird as one person started to feed it some scraps of meat even as the other hands untied a small message that was attached to the bird’s leg.
Major Connely watched the boys work from below a wide brimmed hat that did nothing to help her against the cold, even as the man next to her was addressing several other helpers at the aviary. Soon enough, a small girl was brought to the front of the group to stand awkwardly in front of the Major. The girl said nothing as her eyes focused solely on the boots of the woman in front of her, more than a little bit aware that she was obviously talking to someone important.
The Major knelt down in front of the girl, coming at last to meet the girl's eyes face to face as she finally stopped looking down at the ground.
“I heard you received a message from Camp Miller today, is that correct?”
“Yes ma'am.” The girl’s voice sounded like a squeak in the windy room.
“And what time of day did the message come in?” Major Connely asked.
The girl's eyes raised to the ceiling as she thought for a moment before responding, “I think the bird came in a couple hours before sunset.”
The man behind the girl spoke up then, “Ma'am.” and the girl winced.
“Ma'am!” she added.
The major smiled a smile that none of the children could quite understand as she looked up at the master of birds and shook her head at him just a fraction. As she turned back to the child, she asked one more question.
“And you're sure that this bird came from Camp Miller?”
“Yes ma'am! The ankle matched up just right.”
The older man started to move again before Major Connely fixed a glare on him that stopped him in his tracks. It seemed clear enough to the Major that the girl was talking about the small ankle bracelets the birds all wore marking their primary home nest away from the main aviary. And considering everything else matched up with the story she had heard earlier that day, the Major was content with this one last confirmation of the strange events that had happened recently.
“Thank you dear, I'll let the cooks know that you can ask them for a sweet of your choosing the next time you go to dinner.”
The girls' eyes lit up at this as Major Connely silently thanked the fact that it seemed so easy to reward good work when they were still so young. The woman then turned on her heel to start making her way down the circular stone staircase that wound in circles all the way back to the ground floor. The journey gave her time to think about the message from Camp Miller regarding the strange murder of one of their arcanists posted in the area.
If it had just been a routine death of a man she would have paid it no sense of urgency. It's not like mages suddenly stopped getting sick or were immune to freak injuries and accidents due to their powers. But this death was an entirely different case.
The message had been dated for two days ago at the time of writing, and explained that the man had evidently used something close to the full extent of his magic to try and defend himself within the confines of the city temple. Not only that, but despite the man making nearly an entire underground passage collapse in on itself, there still wasn't a single sign of injury to any other individuals at the scene of the crime.
A bit of digging from one of her scribes revealed that the man in question hadn't been a junior mage either, having been posted to the position at the edges of the kingdom specifically due to his competence as a fighter. Perhaps he wasn't the best that the Monarch had to offer, but he should have been able to handle himself all the same. All of which came together to turn an unfortunate situation into something much more critical to the watchful eye of Connely's forces. The only questions left to fill in the gaps was who, and why, had they done this?
A pair of twin guards saluted the Major as she finally returned to the palace proper, stepping out of the staircase onto the plain red carpet that was lain down the center of the hall. Connely's footstep could hardly be heard as she made her way down one hallway then another to find the source of the carpet where it disappeared beneath an ornate door. More guards stood to the sides of the door, hands held ready on the doorknobs as they at least gave her the decency to collect herself before she nodded her head and they started to open the massive gateway.
The strong smell of food wafted out from within the room accompanying the sight of a large dining room table that could fit a party of twenty at it with ease. Despite the length of the table only a single chair was currently set at the table, facing away from the Major as several men standing around the chair turned to face the doorway.
She paid them no mind as she approached a seated figure, visible only by his pudgy arms as he reached out from the golden throne to grab at a pork rib slathered in sauce. An assortment of other meats and deserts lined the table in a small semi-circle surrounding the lone dinner at the table, and what looked to be an unusually large amount of food stacked on his plate. One of the several aides standing nearby eyed the Major when she finally came to a stop three paces from the throne and went to a kneeling position as he addressed the chair on her behalf.
“Ahem, my King. Major Connely of the 2-29th Detachment has come to make an address.”
The words hung in the air as nothing but the sounds of soft chewing and smacking lips echoed out into the grand room. Somewhat used to this type of response, Major Connely began her address without waiting for acknowledgment.
“My liege, Arcanist Ehlers posted out in Camp Miller has been murdered in cold blood by an unknown group. This is added to the fact that we've received reports that several small groups of unaffiliated soldiers have been seen traveling through the northeastern border region within the last week.” She paused for a moment to give the group time to interrupt her with questions, but nothing came.
“Your Highness, I worry that these facts might reveal the advance forces of another nation.”
The seated figure tossed a well cleaned rib bone into a deep bowl filled with similar other food waste as he finally started to talk.
“And what would you have me do, Major?” A thick, nasally voice rung out through the room.
“Your majesty, I thought you might be interested in hearing about the current status of the border considering the situation.”
“But this is nothing new, isn't it? You haven't given me anything but the half rumors and veiled threats that have been plaguing my borders for the last decade. I gave you your position to specifically find a solution to that border problem, yet what do you do? You bring me reports instead of snuffing out the attack in the first place.”
"Sir, we've been making progress on the-”
“Making progress is what the last four 2-29th commander's had told me as well, until they wasted my time for years.” The man shifted in his seat as he let his right hand rest limply over the armrest and leaned over. A single golden eye with no pupil turned the corner of the chair to look at her as brilliant blond hair draped over the side of his head.
“Now start making results before I wear out my patience!”
—
What had started as a small speck in the distance at the beginning of the day eventually became a cause for excitement as a large overladen wagon started to come into better view along the road. It was perhaps the most interesting thing that Dei had seen in the last two days of travel considering the endless wastes of brush and standing water that surrounded the road on all sides. Pots, pans, and knick knacks of all different shapes and sizes were strapped to the outside of the wagon alongside what looked like a table and chairs ratcheted to the top of the vehicle, turning its typical shape into something barely recognizable. Painted masks that depicted demons and monsters of all types and colors filled in the gaps between a dozen different flags using scabbards of strangely shaped swords to hang on the wagon.
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Even then, the one thing Dei's eyes were drawn to even as the wagon came to a stop in front of them was the sight of a wiry old man carrying the whole contraption down the street in the place where a horse would normally go. It took a moment after the man had stopped as everyone struggled to find the words for the moment when the man beat them to it by flashing an excited grin.
“Welcome, welcome to the wandering emporium!”, the man shrugged out from under the front of the wagon, setting it on extending posts to keep it level as he spun around.
“My name is Alexander Dike, or perhaps you might know me by the name Count Dike as I both have, haven't, and no longer go by.”, John furrowed his brows at this in confusion as the rest of the group merely stared at the man.
“I said welcome, please, please come in! I offer anything and everything to everyone and anyone, for the right price of course.” The man spun around to grab a hinged staircase, swinging it down to rest on the ground as he leapt up the three or four steps to open a thin doorway set into the side of the wagon. Dei immediately stepped forward to start following the man into his wagon as she had already decided that her curiosity far outweighed her apprehension for Alexander Dike.
As she started her way up the stairs Alexander held out a hand to her to help her up as he hung loosely in the air, hanging on to a side strap of the wagon. Conscious of the fact that her hands were bone thin inside her gloves, the girl ignored his outstretched hand as she walked past him into the wagon. For his part, Alexander turned the refusal of his hand to whip it in place as he added some courtly flourish to a bow he gave the girl. The rest of the group started to follow after almost tentatively, as the man raised his head to greet them with a grin that was equal parts inviting, and unknowable at the same time.
Inside the wagon Dei took in the sights as she attempted to make sense of the mounds of items scattered around the room with no discernable organization. Miscellaneous pieces of bright colored clothing from a wide variety of cultures were piled into several corners of the room, lined by clocks and bookshelves stocked with tomes. Below her feet a thick patterned rug gave the room a sense of warmth as several jars filled with fireflies lent the room a constant dim lighting. A few distant steps sounded as the rest of her group started to make their way up the staircase, finally prompting Dei out of her stillness to start searching through the room for something.
She wasn't entirely sure what she was looking for in the wide and varied stacks crammed into the small space. Yet she knew that she wanted something all the same, perhaps being drawn in by the allure of the unknown that hung over the room. Her companions started filtering into the wagon as she shifted aside small dolls, then a set of metal cups, a handful of boots, and a thin wheeled device nailed to a plank of wood. Alexander Dike had joined them in the room, calling out some small platitude at his other patrons while Dei continued to search for something of interest.
She had picked up a thin black slate to move it to the side when she noticed a smudged word written on the side of it, almost entirely wiped away by the friction of the clothing around it as Dei pulled the item out. She held it in front of her, taking in the perhaps twelve inch wide writing surface inlaid into a thick wooden backing that gave the slate a bit more sturdiness.
“That my dear is called a black slate, used primarily by the Freman people in the north to practice writing instead of paper. A useful tool for someone as soft spoken as yourself.” Alexander reached over to one of the nearby shelves to pick up a small leather pouch then tossed it to the girl between the close pressed shoulders of Matthew and John as they had their own look through the wagon.
Dei caught the small bag gingerly, keenly aware of the fact that whatever was in the bag felt surprisingly fragile as soon as it landed in her open palm. Alexander nodded his head at her enthusiastically as she undid the clasps on the leather pouch, revealing several small broken rods of white material that collected into a mass of pale dust at the bottom of the bag. Dei instantly had a good feeling for what to do with the chalk as she withdrew a piece from the bag and started writing on the cloudy slate.
“Hey!” Dei thrust the slate in front of John's face, surprising him enough that he jumped back into one of the several tables laid out in the wagon.
“Ow! Uh, h-hey?”
Dei's mask prevented John from seeing her manic look as she swiped away at the front of her slate with a gloved hand before scribbling for several seconds.
“I can talk with this thing!” The handwriting came out awkward, with an obviously unpracticed hand, but it was at least still readable as John shared a tense smile with her, unsure of what he should do. Disappointed with his reaction, Dei turned to Matthew and grabbed his shoulder to shake him until he looked at her and the slate that she held up for him to see.
“Ah, that you can Dei, but you could always write thing out before.” he told the girl as she considered his words for a moment before wiping her slate off once again.
“Yeah, but this feels different. Better.”
Alexander cut Matthew off before he had a chance to respond, “Indeed it is better in oh so many ways as that slate looks like it matches the crook of your arm like it was practically built for it. Young madam, might I interest you in a trade for the slate?”
Dei turned a masked head towards the man, then cocked her neck to the side to ask the unspoken question, even as she still held the slate in her hands.
“Oh yes, but of course you're confused. See, I don't just deal in gold and silver like your average merchant, no! That would be far too boring for an old man like me. Too mundane, you know? No, I only ask of you to share an item from your own bag that you believe to be of equal value.”
Dei looked down at the slate in her hands, tracing the word “Better” over and over with her eyes as she started to think of what she currently had in her bag, somewhat self conscious of the current contents. Despite her hesitation, she had a decent idea of what she wanted to give the man in exchange for the slate, and set down her bag with a heavy thud and the slight clattering sound of settling objects from within.
Dei set the slate to the side along with the chalk bag as she opened the top of her own ruck sack to gaze inside at what had turned into a questionable mix of bones alongside several tufts of hair and a faintly reeking smell that washed over the room. Alexander's eyes gleamed with excitement even as John and Matthew recoiled a bit to cover their noses as she reached into her sack to find the object she was looking for.
After a few seconds of rummaging, alongside a bit of bone-sense she was using to make sure she had the right pieces, she eventually withdrew a small two legged skeleton that fit easily within the palm of her hand. With a faint breath of an order, she willed the bird to ‘RISE’ as the tiny skeleton raised its triangular head to look up at Dei as it spread featherless wings out to steady itself while it stood up. Alexander took a few tentative steps between his other patrons to come to a stop before the girl, raising his hands into a cupped position even as his mouth worked open and closed without making a single sound.
Dei placed the small bird in his hands as she reached back over for her new prize and set to work writing something out for him.
“What would you like it to do?”
“Uh. Madam, I would be more than happy if you merely allowed this magic puppet to accompany me at all! This is indeed a gift of great value, perhaps more than my own item in trade.”
Dei shook her head at the man's words as she wrote out her response.
“A life for a voice. Seems fair enough.”
“Hah, indeed it is. But I suppose the best trades are always the ones where both sides feel like they won the upper hand in the deal.” He winked at the girl before returning his attention to the small beast of barely two inches of height as it looked up at him with large empty eye holes. The girl heeded Alexander's request as she sent a wordless message ‘ACCOMPANY’ to the bird, curious as to how it would respond.
With soundless steps the bird started walking up the man's sleeves, using small talons to grab firmly to the supple cloth of the man's jerkin as it made its way up his arm. Alexander Dike's eyes followed the bird the entire way up until it settled onto his shoulder and began to look around at the various curios on the walls.
“Ma'am, may I ask what your name is?”
“Dei” she wrote out.
“Lady Dei then, considering the magnitude of your gift I fear I would be a sorry merchant indeed if I didn't at least sweeten the deal for you somehow, so please, take this as well.”
Alexander swept down into a low bow, just as extravagant as the one he had used at the door even as he reached into a nearby pile of items while the bird on his shoulder clung to him with tightened talons. When he drew back up again, he presented the girl with yet another piece of black slate almost identical to the first one.
“Since I have a feeling your other masked friend waiting outside might need this as well.”
—
The group spent another thirty minutes searching through and around the cabin, although none of the following trades were quite as eventful as the first one. John traded his chainmail suit for a chestpiece of studded leather, even as Matthew bartered away a couple of root vegetables for a cigar or two, everyone came away happy in one way or another. As for Charity, she traded the carved wooden mask that hung from her necklace for a new mask carved of ivory into the horned visage of a demon. When she put on the new and improved mask, she caught Dei's eyes as her Herald nodded enthusiastically at the girl from behind her own mask.
Soon enough the party had run through Alexander's wares and picked out the odds and ends they wanted or needed enough to trade for. Alexander Dike waved to them heartily as the two groups parted ways to continue their travels even as the man got back into place at the head of his wagon yolk. Still beside him, a small skeletal bird hopped up from his shoulder to roost upon the wooden lever he placed on his shoulders as it too waved goodbye to its creator as they started to walk down the road once again.