The sun was the opposite of shining, the very antithesis of bright. It was shrouded by the gray of weeping clouds. The sky was not blue, but pale as a corpse in the dim light of just passed early morning. In Cincuin the sun was always bright,and gray skies this early meant only one thing, but Eins wasn’t complaining. A day without scorching rays beaming across his fur and metal was a day well spent, and rain would do his plants well. Only problem he could think of was that ‘few days time from now, the river would flood the cove ‘mile to the east.

  All in all though, would be a better day then most in the ruddy old town. The look on Fred’s face when he’d wake would be priceless and Eins surely wasn't going to miss it. Kid probably had ale sickness, a sight to see for certain. But, that was none of Eins’s concern, ‘kids own fault for drinking so much in the first place; should’ve known better.

  But, the time for waking up was minutes past and the dogman would rather have started the day by now. He threw off the bearskin furs covering his body, and slunk out of bed as the pitter-patter of rain sizzled against his window. He bellowed a fearsome yawn and stood up on his aching legs. The further he walked the more he realized ‘all his body ached. His arms, legs, and neck all sore and bothered by the chaffing weight of the same plate-mail he’d worn everyday since the last rainfall.

  He pushed past his bedroom door and made his way to the kitchen where he tossed a bowl onto a wooden table while his glazed eyes gawked at the char under his boiling pot. He tossed in two handfuls o’ ground-meal that he’d prepared two moons ago. The fire lit with the flick of a match, too tired to use mana. He lazily perched himself onto a stool and leaned warmly against the table as he watched the flames curl around the pot like a fresh roast over campfire, gods he wished it was a roast, but porridge would have to do.

He yawned again as he took the pot by the handle and poured it into the unremarkable, jagged wooden bowl he’d set. He lifted the bowl to his mouth, giving it no time to cool and took a gulp of the stuff. It tasted of venom, and scalded his tongue. The dogman then shrugged his broad shoulders and downed the rest of it like a drunkard to his gin. His arm wiped across his face, gathering a streak of spit, and tossed the bowl to the side.

  The day had just started and the rain made him feel like it was already over, but still, Fred had ale sickness, and he, an obligation. Despite the dogman’s sour feeling after the night before, Fred was a boy, and boy’s don't deal well with nausea and vertigo. He rolled his eyes back and shook his head as he began to dress himself. He adorned his body, shining steel and all, setting out for the toilsome day ahead.

  “The hells’ll freeze over ‘for I ever step outside me house ‘thout metal on,” He mumbled to himself, the rasp of his throat lessening as he coughed.

  Pushing open his door, what greeted him were filled streets. Folks excited for rain after the long drought. He walked through the vicious hail, through the streets full of smiling folk, happy the gods decided to piss once again. He let out a sigh just as he plunged into a puddle, deeper than he thought it’d be. His feet fell over one another and latching onto a nearby street pole was the only way to keep his feet sturdy on even ground. He gripped it tightly, and was further reminded why rain was nice, but water was dreadful. He shook his head and steadied himself, and grumpily stepped forward.

  The barracks were just ahead, rows of stalls and stockades arranged efficiently around the complex, and inside em’ a boy having the worst morning of his life. The old wolf looked up at the sky, remembering his first morning after drinking just as fondly as he’d remember Fred’s and perhaps even Scotty’s eventually. Memories of going to his first dive and ordering somethin’ or other on the rocks. He remembered downing it in a gulp and a few minutes later feeling it bad. The wooden inlay of the building was a hue that pleased his drunk eyes and he remembered some tavern wench hounding him for something that slipped his mind. A grand time it was. But those daydreams of simpler times were cut short by the sound of gunfire. He remembered the war, all the blood spilled that flowed like wine, the sloshing mud colored like lager, the crystaline raindrops that dripped down like the finest of Varoskan blends. All of it played in his mind to the beat of gunfire, the sling of arrows, the screeching of metal grinding together as steel clashed. He remembered Serenbecci, a thought that hadn’t crossed his mind in a good while. The crash of a boulder through the wall, breaching through with his battalion and slaughtering the Old Kingdom heralds by the dozen. They climbed with ladders over the parapets and ripped through men with their spears. It hurt to look back on, and was all far too much to give thought to right now. But the thoughts persisted, except this time different.

  He pictured His home, Cincuin. It was hidden under a veil of shadow, no sign of the sun . Men in silver armor breaking down the walls, and white bird-like things clawing through people, cooing at them in a language far removed from his own. They sent beams of light through buildings as a man in red watched from the sky, bright wings flapping behind him, displaying fruitful dominion. He imagined a great eye watching him, white scales surrounding it, and finally a cage.

He violently clapped the sides of his head. Shaking it left to right until the thoughts were rattled from his mind. Glancing around he’d noticed that people were ogling him, not that it was unusual. His kind was rare, and had been since every sane man and his wife came to Oblivion's Edge. But, it was embarrassing nonetheless. Far too much for his pride to take. He quickly turned tail and swung open the door to the barracks, slamming it shut behind him.

  Memories of the Triss today? Well maybe the rain wasn’t such a good sign after all. Eins wasn’t exactly the superstitious type but maybe he’d pissed the rain god right off his rocker.

  “Eins?” A meek voice called out from one of the beds.

  The dogman closed his eyes for a brief moment, “Er, yeah boy it's me. Just er, give me a moment would ‘ya?”

  “Aye, sure thing.”

  “Right.”

  “D’you bring tea?”

  “Said giv’me a minute lad.”

  He stood solemnly pressed up against the door, despite the spiked chill of frosted rain, he still felt hot with embarrassment. Ain’t had flashes like that in a bloody good while. And Cincuin? Never had a battle here in me life. Ack, never mind. Don’t matter much now, do it?

  “Right, here lad.”

  “tea?”

  “No, didn't have time, I'm afraid. Scarfed a bowl o’ that rancid fucking porridge, then came ‘ere to see you. Be grateful I’m ‘ere at all.”

  Fred turned his body around face down to the pillow,“Damn, was really fiending for tea.” He said through muffled voice.

  “And I’m fiending for a day your like’ stop complaining.” Eins jests. “You’ll be ‘appy to know, we ain’t a damn thing to do today.”

  Fred rolled his head to face Eins, “No work?”

  “Clouds 'are full o’ water. None today.”

  “Thank the gods, if ‘id to work today, I might've jumped off the damn wall.”

  Now sitting up, a pillow pressed to his chest,“By the way, got anythin’ for the sickness? My eyes are fuzzed, and my stomachs twistin’ somethin’ fierce.”

  “I’ll get somethin’ for ye’ if you’ve got a couple dimes lying spare.”

  “Ugh, dickhead,” Fred groaned as he tossed the ruffled pillow.

  “Hah! My dimes ‘r hard earned lad. Ain't gonna forfeit em’ just cuz yer a bit queasy.”

  “Come on mate.”

  “Not a chance boy.”

  “Then why’d ye’ bloody come ‘ere then? Just to gawk at me?”

  “Nah, just wanted to share the news. Figured you’d want to know,” Eins says stifling his laugh.

  Fred flung the linen sheet off his body, landing at the foot of the bed. He grimaced at Eins, who was watching him, damn amused. Eins shook his head, shifting his gray fur slightly under the mail. His metal rattled as he walked forward, he seemed a giant in the room. All seven feet of him, peering over Fred and grabbing his hand. The cold touch of frosted steel spiked through his digits.

  “Eek! Holy fuck, that burns like shit. Bastard!”

  Eins face curled into a devious grin, a face that said tough luck. He removed his hand and Fred pulled back hard, propelling himself off the bed and hitting the ground, knocking his head on the wall with a loud thump.

  “Shit!” The boy howled.

  Eins could no longer stifle his laughter, and grabbed his chest with one hand, he heaved forward and bellowed a hardy chuckle. The dogman was nearly doubled over in laughter, stopping every couple of seconds to stare at the boy’s troubled state, which would immediately reignite the hilarity.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “Stop bloody laughing, it ain’t even a little funny,” Fred choked out, embarrassed.

  “Hah! Gods, shove it boy. I’ll laugh if I want to. Now c’mon, stand. Off your arse.”

  Eins’s bellows of amusement subsided and he wiped the water from his eyes, “Hells, I haven’t laughed like that in ages, lad.”

  “I bet you haven’t, you big, grim, bastard.” Fred replied, still red in the face and nauseous.

  He grappled with the bedframe before finding a comfortable place to latch his hand to. He pulled himself off the floor and stood up straight, all five feet of him trying to straighten himself to the goliath before him. He shook his head, and immediately began walking for his wardrobe. Eins didn’t say a word, but a twisted smile of mirth was still splayed upon his face. His jagged teeth stuck out and his silver-steel plate rattled as he began walking for the door.

  His voice boomed as he shouted back, “I’ll be waiting for ‘ye.”

  “Fuck yourself.”

XXX

  Fred had seemed annoyed before, but as he stepped through the door into the rain, his expression had stilled. Eins looked down at him, and shook his head to the side before the two of them began to walk forward, through the showering pellets of hail that clanked against their armor, leaving small little dents as they passed by. The two of them trailed off further and further from the barracks as they enjoyed the company of the screeching winds and the pitter-patter on the ground.

  “I’ll be damned if I go through the morn without a meal,” Fred complains.

  Eins rolled his eyes, “God’s boy, you’re a bloody woman, I swear it. There’s always something with yous’, ‘im hungry’, ‘i'm tired’ , ‘i don't want to work today’, well boy, I didn’t ask.” He halfheartedly shouted.

  “Well, yous’ is just an inconsiderate old dog ain’t ‘ye” Fred sarcastically fires back.

  Eins rolled his eyes and spit on the ground,“Dolt.”

  The two of them walked side by side through the hail, which by now had become rain. The annoying and consistent sound of subtle clanking, now quelled. Early in the morning it was, and a soothing morning at that. Despite his reluctance to step into it, Eins enjoyed the rain, or looking at it rather. It was comforting, and combined with the soft lighting of streetlamps it made him feel warm. Although the frigid weather did still gnaw at him. He felt a tug on his cloak and looked over at Fred, who had already started pointing at a small tavern they’d frequented.

  “Please,” Just the single word, said in a monotone voice.

  Eins rolled his eyes for the hundredth time, “Why? How’re you possibly hungry this damned early. The sun ain’t even broke through the clouds and yous already gone about ‘ounding me”

  “I’m bloody starvin’, come on, Flannigans? You’re telling me, that the likes o’ you don’t want to go ‘te Flannigans?” Although impatient and admittedly annoying, Fred knew him all too well. ‘Specially since the winter season had been approaching, and everyone in Cincuin knew what that meant. Snowcake.

  “Fine,” He said, thinking of the soft mallow gracing his tongue. He even imagined ice covering the rooftops and the pillowy white powder encasing the ground as he bit into it, though that was unlikely to ever happen in his lifetime. Cincuin’s weather and all. Dreams of bitter cold would be dreams, and just that.

  The tavern was spacious, yet trinkets and knick-knacks covered every surface. Old framed paintings, the signs of old shops and stores, as well as an assortment of different taxidermied heads along the wall. Boar, Lion, Bear, Goat, if you could name it, ‘twas probably there.

  Eins strode up to the bar counter where the barkeep had his back turned. The old wolf cracked a smile as Fred sat down. After mixing a drink or two, he turned his attention to Eins. Grease stains covered the white tunic that overlaid his body. He looked’ a right jolly fat man. His hair parted down the middle, and in the realm of facial hair, he’d had a mustache with bushy ends and mutton chops that curled down to near his mouth.

  With great widened eyes and a hardy voice, “ha ha, there ‘e is. Only damned dogman i’ve ever known,” He clapped Eins on the shoulder. “Aye, and stood before me’s the maddest bastard in all o’ Cincuin.” Eins clapped him back with a wink, and his lips curled into a friendly grin, “How you been, ‘ye great fat bastard,” Placing his arms down on the bar counter.

  Picking up a glass to polish, “Aye, same old for me. Ain’t been too much business to drum as o’ late. Just usuals.”

  “It’s expected though right? Y’know, been a minute since this place crossed my mind ‘ye know Flan? Only reason I’d thought to come ‘ere was cause o’ Fred.” His curled maw staying steadily in a jovial state.

  Flannigan placed down the glass and began lifting a shred of sausage to his mouth, “Fred? He here now?” He bit down hard as his sentence was complete.

  “Aye, he is”

  “Good thing, that. The shit owes me dimes,” Flannigan said slovenly, picking the meat from his teeth.

  “Not surprised. Kid needs sense knocked into ‘em. But er, here,” He plucked a small coin purse from his side, and six dimes poured out onto his metallic hand. A series of light chinks later, and he held the hand out, “This cover it?”

  “Eight.”

  Two more coins fell out’ the purse, “Take em. Oh, and Flan?”

  “Hm?”

  “Don’t tell em it was me,” Eins whispered sheepishly.

  “Mhm. Oh, and since it’s the season, would you like-” He’s cut off quickly by Eins reply.

  “Yes.”

  “Hah, you always was a fan of it wasn’t ye? I myself never quite got the appeal but, each their own ‘an all.” Flannigan said in passing as he lifted a spoon off the counter, and walked to the back where a quaint fire scorched the underside of a cast iron pot. He lifted the top and wafting plumes of steam rose into the air, sending an earthy sweet scent Eins way. Flan took the wooden spoon and plucked a large, white, puffy desert from the bottom. He slid it onto a plate, making a squelch as it touched the polished wood.

He placed the plate on the bar counter and slid it over to the stoic old wolf. His appetite, even in the early morn became active and in an instant he tossed two dimes over to Flannigan and walked to Fred's table, leaving Flan with two fresh coins and a wave.

  The small plate clattered onto the clothed table below, sending the desert before him into a fit of sputtering rolls. It jiggled about, until coming to a stop, whilst Eins pulled out the wooden chair opposite Fred. The boy stared on at the dogman as he lifted the plump mallow into his mouth, downing it in a single bite. Now, whilst it was a fine taste, chewing was unthinkable with these kinds of things. The feeling of his jaw stickily clamping down, and turning his face sore trying to pick it from his teeth was never an enjoyable task. He swallowed with a mighty gulp, the lump in his throat blocking his airway for a brief second. He tightened his lip and exhaled sharply, firing streams of steam through his nostrils. He winced, then rested his hands upon his armor where his belly lay beneath. He adjusted himself in his chair whilst Fred picked at the bowl of peanuts mandatory for every tavern table. Eins shut his eyes in toilsome fatigue and satisfaction.

  A peanut shell battered against the side of his jaw, “Oi, how was it?”

  “Fine, as always,” He replied, sneering.

  “Never had one ye know,”

  “Aye, a right shame that is. Ye’ should.”

  “Probably right,” Fred smiled, “Don’t think you’re meant ‘e scarf it though.”

  “Eh, way I've always eaten. No point in takin’ too long, tastes the same either way.” Eins replied with a hefty yawn.

  “Guess so, always thought to nibble at it first myself. Never been a quick eater, not me.” He said whilst fiddling with a two pronged fork on the shell of one peanut.

  “Lad?” The dogman called out from his stupor, “Hmm?” The boy grunted in response. “What was with the’ drinkin’ last night? Wasn’t I supposed to meet yous’? Known you fer’ three years I have, and i’ve never yet seen you act a fool like then.”

   The crowded feel of Flannigans fell to the backdrop as the table immediately felt too small for the two. It suddenly felt like the air tightened around them, it became restrictive and Freddy clammed up. His vibrant face became pale and cold. It looked like the boy’d been trapped in the snow for months by the red of his nose in comparison.

  “What’s the matter-”

  “ ‘member yesterday morn’, you’d asked if I decided if I wanted to be a soldier. I’d said I hadn’t really thought ‘bout it, well…I lied.” Fred just managed to stammer, “Hmm?” Eins grunted, “I have thought about it Eins, last night specifically, you put the idea in me ‘head. I spent the rest of the bloody day, and night thinkin’ bout it, and the thinkin’ brought me to the booze. And, y’know what? I do. I really fucking do. Mor’dn anything in my life, more'n anythin’ I’ve ever wanted, I want ‘e be a soldier. I want ‘e fight like you, I want ‘e act like you, Eins bloody hells, I look up to you. I found bloody purpose ‘ere Eins, I feel like what I do matters here.” The color had returned to his face, and his previous pale was vibrant and passionate once again. He delivered it in a tone that held such finality.

Eins mouth hung open with a half smirk, “Eins. You’re a good friend to me. Yous’ always been smart, and’ve left me with some wise words…on occasion. So, I want to be a soldier, just like you.”

  Damn Serenbecci, Damn the flashes, Damn the whole Triss the boy would learn to fight, would learn to be a better man then the old wolf.

  “Hah!” He shouts, slamming his fist harshly on the wooden table.

  “Boy, in all my damned years on this earth, those were the last words I ever thought I’d hear from your mouth.” He clapped him on the shoulder, “By the damn gods Im happy for ye’, and I’ll be damned if I’m not the one to teach ya.”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Fred said with a proud smile.

  “Aye, c’mon boy, we’ll go to the cap’n and tell’em right away. I’d be pleased if I got your like’ in the training yard by mid-day.”

  “Oh, o’course, o’course. We’ll tell’em right this minute. C’mon, let's go.” Fred stated happily, slamming his chair into the table as he jogged to the door. Eins walked behind out the door, and again, left Flan with a wave.

  The clouds still littered the gray sky, and people had started their work and shopping. Small cafes were packed with young men and women who crowded every seat. It seemed like today was going to be the first good day in a long while. Too good to be true almost.

Eins nose twitched and two smells entered into his sinus. The smell of rain, and death.