Lit with half a dozen candles, the room echoed a night filled with fireflies. The smell of incense and fading sage burned through the air. A wide-stretched rug made from the skin of a wild beast decorated the floor, its paws garnishing the corners. The bed was tall, with a curtain fixture that lined the entire thing, allowing for veiled privacy when needed. In a moment, it would be shut. But for now, while there was company, it stayed drawn.
Tucked under the covers of her deep black blankets, lying on her matching satin pillowcase, Nemal of the East Tower of Appilus stared up at her father, Ottilus, as he finished up his bedtime story. Her hands rested above the covers, her fingers interlaced in front of her. She was still wearing the silver gift she had received just yesterday, fidgeting with it as her father spoke.
“And after everything, the oh-so-brave champion fell to his knees, captivated by the woman once and for all,” Ottilus regaled his daughter. “This ‘noble’ peace-bringer, who really just wanted to take from the woman, denying her of what was rightfully hers, finally understood. He was at the mercy of her grace, her benevolence, as was everyone else. And to deny her that respect, to attempt such disobedience, was to sin before god’s eyes.”
“And then what happened, Daddy?” Nemal asked in a chipper tone.
“Ha ha ha, you already know what happens, darling,” the man replied. “She received everything she was owed, just as she deserved, and was able to live the rest of her life with the control she was destined to have. Though of course, one could never be more deserving of anything… than you, sweet child.”
“Does that mean I can have a new doll?”
“Of course, though it is late, darling. We will get you one first thing in the morning. I do hope that is alright.”
“But I want one now! You said I could have anything, didn’t you?”
“I did, darling, I did, but it is much too late to get one right now. Just play with the one you have now before you head off to bed, and I assure you, first thing tomorrow morning I will take you to pick out whichever new doll you’d like. Do we have a deal?”
Nemal frowned and grumbled for a moment. “Mm… fine…”
“Thank you, my sweet child. Now please get some rest. I know I cannot keep you asleep, but still, I must urge that you shut your eyes soon. Your first real day being 13. It was a big one. I hope yesterday was fun, but I hope today felt grand.”
“It did, Daddy, it did,” she assured her father. “I’ll go to sleep… soon. But, thank you again for yesterday. And thank you to Mom again for the silver, I really love it. Today was good, too. Everybody kept looking at me.”
“I’m glad. Sleep well, sweet child.”
With these final words, Ottilus leaned over from the side of the bed to give his daughter a kiss on the forehead, before getting up to leave. She lifted the finger that wore her new metal claw and started to wave it.
“Ah ah,” Ottilus stopped her. “Please use it responsibly.”
Nemal put her finger back down with a “humph”.
As he left, the man in the navy suit pulled the curtains of the bed to cover Nepal once more, leaving her visible to him only through a feint sheen. He walked toward the door, almost tipping on his daughter’s doll, sidestepping out of the way. Once at the door, he gave one final glance back toward the bed, though he could not actually see her anymore, and snapped his fingers. 5 out of the 6 candles went out instantaneously, leaving only the one closest to his daughter lit so it could serve as a night light. He closed the door behind him and left Nemal to her own devices, of which she planned on being rather active with.
The light from the last remaining candle shone just enough for Nemal to still see her hands, as well as her silver clawed finger which glinted an orange candlelight reflection. It looked even more beautiful to her under the candlelight. The engravings along its side seemed to glow, and the silver itself was radiant. She stared for a moment, in awe, before having an odd thought. The girl paid more attention to the orange bouncing off her finger and looked over to the candle. She watched as the petite flame danced around the wick, spinning and flickering like a performer on a wax stage.
She noticed the change in color as she looked further from the center. From the bright intensity to the gentle orange warmth. It gave a feeling of familiarity. As if she had seen something similar, but so much more different. Looking back down at her present, she realized why.
Doing her best to push the thought aside, Nemal said to herself, and to her silver claw, “Anyway, let’s play a bit shall we?”
The girl lifted her armor-covered finger and felt a stroke of resistance. As she did so, a painful groan echoed from the corner of her room. “Uh-Ugh.. ow! Ah! No! No… ugh… …”
----------------------------------------
“Ugh… Aughhhh…” yawned Leone, who was starting to get tired at the reigns. They had only been trekking a mile, and yet the weight of the day was starting to get to him. He looked over to Riva, hoping to give her the reigns back, but found she was taking a quick evening nap before they reached their destination. Moving his gaze over to Azim, he saw that the robot was still sitting calmly while Roman played at his feet. Azim did not move, nor did he pet the mosstail. He simply just stared at the creature. Bizarre, Leone thought.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Soon enough, the young man arrived at a fork in the road. In the middle of the dirt road was a wooden sign sitting atop a small grass mound with two arrows, one pointing to the left and one pointing to the right. It was clear that there used to be destinations accompanying each arrow, but they had seemingly been burnt off the wood. All that remained were the arrows, unlabeled and unassuming.
The paths themselves were just as unassuming. Both routes looked for the most part identical, with the two options leading to more dirt and nothingness. Leone gazed back and forth at the two options, unsure of which way to go. The terrams had said “West”, which was the direction they had headed, but other than that, there were not really any navigation instructions. He supposed they would not be expected to know, considering they had only heard secondhand stories from travelers.
“Hmmm…” the young man thought to himself.
Azim, noticing that the carriage had stopped and Leone wasn’t doing or saying anything, asked, “Is everything all right, Leone?”
“Hm? Oh yeah, sorry buddy,” he assured the android. “We just came to a fork in the road, so I’m thinking about which way to go.”
“I understand. What are the options available to us?” Azim asked.
“I mean… dirt road, or… dirt road. I’m not seeing anything crazy either way. And they don’t really split apart much either, so if anything, we might even be able to hop over to the other one regardless of which we pick.”
“If the two options presented are seemingly identical, then the choice becomes one of probability, as any potential danger cannot be uncovered until a path is chosen.”
“Yeah, no, that’s what I was thinking. Statistics and whatnot.”
Azim clicked. “Statistically, it is more likely for an individual to turn right when presented with left and right options, this being because more people are born right-dominant than left, leading to them making right-sided decisions more often.”
“Wha— How… how do you know that?”
“I… do not know. Or rather… I do now. I have similar information in my back brain, though I do not recall it being there before. It is as if my internal systems just now unlocked an encyclopedia of knowledge that was being hidden from me. My memory banks are now at 52 percent capacity. It appears to be mostly encyclopedic knowledge from my Earth.”
“Ain’t that neat?” a soft voice bellowed from beside them.
Azim turned his head to look behind him, Leone following his lead. To the two travelers’ surprise, standing outside the cart was a girl with braided black hair. She had tiny flowers embedded in her braids, and carried with her two instruments; a mandolin on her back and a small lyre hanging at her waist. She wore a brown heather top that was cropped just above her belly button, and baggy trousers that cuffed at her ankles. The girl also wore a hand wrap on both arms, which were each embedded with small, bright stones, similar to the one worn by Welstom’s mayor. Most notably, the girl had blueish-black skin. Several physical traits looked similar to those of the elves they had come across, such as her ears and thin face, but she was clearly something different. Azim was curious, or rather, as curious as his processors could be.
“Uhhh…” Leone stammered.
“Who are you?” Azim spoke up.
“Me? Aw, gee, sorry, I suppose I shoulda’ just introduced myself. The name’s Iman. Iman Ifta.”
“You do not appear to be an elf, despite some similar physical attributes,” Azim stated bluntly, recalling his analysis, which prompted Leone to give the robot a shocked look.
“Um? Well I suppose that's ‘cuz I ain’t one?” the young woman replied. “Is that a problem or something?”
“I did not intend any offense, though I am curious what you are if not an elf,” responded the robot.
“What I am?? Excuse me?!”
Leone jumped in, realizing Azim was not making a good first impression, explaining, “He just hasn’t met a lot of species is all. And he doesn’t always know how to ask right.”
The bluish-skinned woman stared back at the android. The metal man just sat there in the cart, staring back at her with an unmoving, unassuming expression. It was odd. Yet, not intimidating. It weirdly felt harmless.
“Well, you sure sound like you know quite a lot about random stuff. I suppose it’s alright if you don’t much else,” she finally asserted.
“Really?” Leone checked.
“I mean, I don’t know that much about much either,” Iman admitted. “So I ain’t gonna’ be too mad at someone else who needs help sometimes. I wouldn’t have even made it this far without help.”
“I appreciate your understanding nature, Iman,” Azim uttered, not quite comprehending the thought of needing help.
“Of course, guy. I’m a Nør Elf, by the way. We’re not exactly the same species, but similar. Kinda like distant cousins. Not really, though.”
Leone, realizing how this interaction had started, asked, “Wait, sorry, why are you here? Not that I’m saying you shouldn’t be, but like… what are you doing here?”
“Oh! Well that one’s a bit easier to answer. I’m here to help people cross the fork, so no one gets eaten.”
The metal man sitting in the carriage was the one to ask, “What is there to get eaten by?”
“That right there, of course,” Iman replied chirpily.
The two adventurers looked over to where the young woman had pointed to see the wooden sign resting on the small grass mound. It had not changed in appearance since the last time they had looked at it. Leone looked over to the girl to ask what she was talking about but saw that she had raised a finger, as if to say, “Wait for it…”
Sure enough, a few seconds later, the grass mound started to rumble and shake. It began to stretch upward, growing in size and cracking the ground around it. The wooden sign wobbled as it rose up, the ground around the area shaking more and more violently. Out of the dirt rose some bizarre, bright green creature with four arms and no eyes. The monster was covered in thorns, and the path of grass that housed the wooden sign remained stuck on the creature’s head as it stood up. Once it had completely pulled itself out of the ground and stood on its thick, stocky legs, the beast let out a loud, warbled screech, like a screaming man’s voice muffled by a cloth sack over his head.
“What… the hell… is that thing?!” Riva screamed, who had woken up from her nap at the sound of the thorn-covered creature.
“It’s the Underslug! I named it that!” replied Iman excitedly, whose response made Riva notice there was even someone else present.
“It doesn’t… look like a slug…” attested Riva.
“Aw, what? Really? Aw, gee, I guess I don’t really remember what they look like,” Iman admitted.
The thorny monster raised its four arms high and let out another warbled screech, drawing the attention of the whole group.
“I don’t think the name is that important right now, people!” Leone shouted at the group.