The [Druid] I had bumped into was certainly a character. She let me use her tub and some soap, then she peeked at me midway through washing myself, then she gave me cool water and invited me inside after trying to say something about time. I had assumed she had invited me in because of the time, but considering the man who walked up and spoke with her, it was likely more along the lines of, “I have someone coming soon,” instead of “How long did you walk to get here?” That was a bit embarrassing, considering the answer I gave. He looked stoic, like he was talking at a wake, she bickered back to him, and he got visibly confused before she shoed him off and walked back in. I could make out the general tone, and it was the kind of tone that followed bad news, though on what end of the conversation, I had no idea.
I decided to stop looking through the window about twenty seconds into the conversation, though I only watched the beginning and end. In between, I was looking around the room, there was an easel with some art on it, they were flowers, a bouquet of flowers painted in startlingly accurate colours, it sat on top of a bit of cloth with some paint on it. The walls had a few paintings hung on them, with a few in a corner leaning against one another. Their colourful fronts were hidden from the light to stop them from becoming washed out. There was a table with bowls and oil on it where she presumably mixed the pigments into the paint. I managed to take a sniff and found that the pigment smelled like flowers. The dye she uses must be from the flowers in her garden, the green smells similar to grass. How she had managed to get the dye to remain the same colour was a mystery to me; usually, they would alter over time, changing colour in the open air like a scab. I turned back towards the windows when she picked her voice up. It had taken me all of twenty seconds to get lost in my own world before I returned to the window, and the conversation wound down.
I don’t think that the look on his face was priceless, I think it was worth 1000 gold. Just before she waved him away, he looked like a man who was just a question without an answer and tried to find one before it fell flat on his face. He looked vaguely similar to the lady, maybe he was her little brother? Man, it sucked not knowing how to talk to them, half the fun you found working for a [Lord] was listening in on conversations. It was significantly more boring not being able to make out anything besides vague ideas about the emotions of the two.
When she re-entered the house, I peeked into the main room, where she was going over to an area I would call a kitchen. The house was mostly wood, the floorboards looked like soft, unblemished wood with no noticeable scuffs, and the walls were mostly taken up by shelves or windows that were shuttered. There was a hearth fire burning in the wall of the kitchen, which was the only area made from hewn stone. Her footwear, some kind of shoe, made a light clapping noise against the stone.
She appeared, for all intents and purposes, like she was making food. Pulling a pot off of a hook on the ceiling. She could reach the base of the pot comfortably even if she was a good half a foot shorter than me when she stood tall and a bit on her tippy toes to reach it. I could practically hit my head on them with how they dangled. I knocked on the doorframe to catch her attention as she pulled a sack of greens and a bit of red meat out of a pantry off to the side. She looked over and waved before going back to work, filling a pot with some water.
Was she ignoring me? Why was she suddenly cooking? It was a little past mid-day, was she going to eat a hearty late luncheon? Was I invited?
She got the pot over the fire and turned around when I knocked again and stepped into the room a little. She looked towards me and made an eating gesture before gesturing towards me.
I gestured back to her, ‘Can I eat?’
She nodded back, performing something along the lines of, ‘We eat, long cook, you eat? You stay?’ To which I nodded.
Looking at the food on the counter top there were some carrots, some green beans still in the pod, some meat, a white powder she put to the side of the counter and a pot of water. It looked like a stew, but it’s a bit weird without potatoes, or any root vegetables other than carrots, for that matter. She pulled a pot down from the hooks and went to cut some meat.
Gosh, but she is moving fast for such a tiny lady, like a mouse scurrying around in a kitchen, honestly. It was somewhat familiar. It brought me back to the mice kobolds that so often filled the kitchens, going through the steps of making food. Stew was a common thing then but was mostly potato and meat broth. Getting a piece of seared meat was always nice, and when I was a kid, they would always slip me some of the meat.
It would make sense if she was making stew, you really had to let it simmer if what the lady mice said was true.
I didn’t get in her way, I didn’t dare. Between the pans, the scurrying [Druid] and the unknown placement of stuff in the kitchen, all I would do is get in the way, instead, I went over and checked on the keg of what was presumably water. There was, as I looked around, no alcohol in the kitchen, no beer or wine, which also seemed strange.
Generally speaking, you couldn’t walk down a street without seeing somewhere without beer, and then it clicked. There were no great tracks of land, and no valley to grow grains in, no slopes to grow grapes on. Of course, they would have less cropland, most of this was probably from her garden, though that didn’t explain the lack of potatoes; they grew here like weeds.
I shook the barrel and found it mostly empty, I decided that I should ask permission before taking it, however. Nocking on the barrel to get her attention, I signed, ‘Take the barrel, pour in, outside?’
She waved back, ‘Yes’, followed by a thumbs up. Talk about a timeless gesture. I gave a thumbs up in return and picked up the barrel before going outside. I made sure to peek out and see if there was anyone outside before I went to the well, I don’t know why she ushered me inside, but presumably, it was for a reason. I got to the well and sat down the barrel. As I started pulling up the bucket, it occurred to me how strange it was that the first person I bumped into welcomed me into her home and decided to share food with me. Why had I just gone along with her? Because she was a [Druid]? As I thought about it in the abstract, it occurred to me that it seemed very wrong, just wandering into a random secretive woman's house and taking food. I suppose I could sleep in the woods, I can't exactly go to sleep in a tavern, I have no coin, and I can't even ask to buy a room if I did.
I simmered on it while I removed the bungholes stopper and poured a bucket into the keg. Was it just because she was a [Druid]? The effect of a spell? I doubted that [Druids] might be strong, but they were generally limited to natural effects, not mind control or suggestion-style spells. Was it just because that land liked her? The land had never been wrong, but that didn’t mean it was omniscient. It was a force of nature, vastly powerful, with a sort of personality of its own. That did not mean that it was an excellent judge of character; it just knew that it liked her, which was, to my knowledge, a pre-requisite to being an [Druid] in the first place. Was it the feeling of the grove, maybe? It was relaxing, like a feeling of welcomeness. Like a blanket and a fire on a cold day, I decided that was part of it, It felt nice, and it certainly affected me positively.
Was it just her? She was unassuming and a bit of a beauty. That likely did affect me, now that I think about it, I had to make sure it didn’t cloud my better judgment. The last thing I wanted to do was get killed like a cautionary tale.
I poured more water out into the keg. What am I going to do now that my whole world is upside down? Do I just stay with her and learn to speak the language? On the one hand, I certainly could if she was ok with it, but honestly I better not push it without something I can give in return; I can sleep in a nook somewhere for a night. It wouldn’t be that bad for me, I would be a little wet if it rained, but that’s about it. What was I going to do? Catch my death? She left me behind, so I doubt it.
What does that even mean anyways? Does she just leave the last member of every species behind? Did she not come to see me, or is she just not guiding anyone? And what did being a [Saint of Death] mean when you get down to it? What was true immortality?
I have so many damn questions and no answers. But if I learn to converse with the lady cooking for me, maybe I can ask. Oh man, I can’t just call her that lady or that [Druid]. I totally forgot to get her name. I'll have to ask over dinner, I might not be that hungry but free food is free food, and I can introduce myself. Now that I think about it, she’s living all the way out here, that must be a hell of a chore to get stuff from town. Maybe I'll trade doing chores for lodging? It's worth a shot, I suppose.
I pour another bucketful in and another until it's almost full; I would hate to get water on her floor if I spilled it, so I placed the stopper into the hole. With the task done, I went and took a quick look around the garden, and I was right, all the vegetables inside were in the garden, and there were no potatoes. I'll give her some if I stay; there have to still be some in the valley.
After my circuit of the cabin, I went and picked up the barrel, hefting it over my shoulder and into the cabin. When I get back to the kitchen and put the barrel down on its stand, I let the plug sit propped to the side, partially covering the hole. It would be a pain to remove it should it be left in when the spigot was opened. Generally speaking, if it acted as a way to seal something, you didn’t want to do it for serving. I remember a priest speaking about pressure, but that wasn’t important right now.
I watched the woman as she seared the meat, a set of tongs in one hand to make sure she could sear the sides right. When she turns back around, she sees me and the keg, she nods to me before looking towards the keg. She peers at it, walks over, and taps the cork stopper into the keg. Now that I think about it, wasn’t the cap on? I tap the counter to get her attention, ‘keg, stopper down, spigot, open/close, cup, empty?’
She shook her head no before signing, ‘stopper, ok,’ and opened a drawer before removing a corkscrew. And it made sense. I gave her a thumbs up. The screw made a hole through the stopper, it would seal periodically, but the hole meant that the keg could breathe; if the keg stopped giving water, she could just open it back up. We didn’t have a keg for water, just a massive barrel with an open top we filled; the [Lord's] kitchen had proper kegs with stoppers and didn’t keep the kegs after they were empty, he just bought new ones. I suppose cost-effective problems require cost-effective solutions.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
I nodded and prepared to settle down when the woman waved me over and started walking over to the corner of the room where what looked like a closet rested. She kicked the stop out from the door and pulled the handle, and I looked inside.
It was a closet, a small cubby, but it did have a ladder. She gestured up the ladder, ‘up, room, sleep,’ I was going to wave her off when she started again, ‘arm, strong, keg, shovel’ and a rolling motion that I presumed meant more. ‘You, keg, shovel, more you sleep, here, up’ and gave a thumbs up and down.
This was more in line with what I was expecting. Sleeping here for nothing would have been weird; sleeping here for what was presumably chores was just what a [Ditchdigger] like me was looking for; rent and food for labour were up my alley. But she got my attention again.
She pointed to me and said made random noises, ‘me, hear, no.’ she gestured back and forth between us. That she said something and gestured to me, ‘you, make sound, me, hear.’ I wasn’t sure if I understood her, but I think she was talking about me learning to speak. Just to make sure, I asked back, ‘You, speak, me. You speak, me, hear, you, head?’ and she nodded. I gave a thumbs up in agreement, enthusiastically, I don’t know why she wanted to speak to me, but I definitely wanted to speak to her. I have soo many questions that I think I can ask her and that I can ask other people. What I would give to speak to a knowledgeable priest.
She lets out a breath before nodding once, she gestures, ‘Chair, outside, inside, over there,’ pointing towards another door I have not gone into. I nod starting outside to grab her chair and pull it in.
A few hours go by where I help her with whatever it is she needs done; at one point, she got me to bring some sheets up to my room, but six hours later, the stew was ready. I sat down at the table across from her. She started eating, but I decided to give thanks for her hospitality first; it would be rude not to.
“Lord of full tables, the land has offered my host its bounty, I give thanks to you that my host has offered this to me, and taken me in hospitably. She has honoured your ancient laws, blessed they are, and blessed they will be for her guests while I am her guest.”
This obviously gets her attention, she simply stops eating as I pray, then nods at the end. I can tell it was received, and with her attention on me, I point to myself and said, “Saphine,” and then I gesture toward her. She looks confused until I repeat it a time or two, and then she gets it.
I can only imagine how my name sounds outside of context. Her first name sounds like AH-Nah-b-Eh-th. It's funny how even though it’s a name, I can't understand the composite words. I certainly couldn’t write it out if I needed to.
But she had two names, and the second was one I could understand, Mynes. I blinked at that and asked, “[Lady] Mynes?” That seemed to catch her off guard by the looks of it.
She shakes her head, saying something, but all I can pick up are, ‘[Druid], yes, [Lady], no, Mynes yes.” That catches me confused, but I don’t ask about it. I think back to Ayme, who was an illegitimate daughter of the [Count] Mynes of my time, how her mom was, if I had to guess, part mouse. And now I meet someone who can scurry like a mouse would in the kitchen with the same name. What were the odds that little half-Kobold Ayme Mynes was her ancestor?
I thought about it while I ate for a minute. The food was nice, she had put something in it that added some flavour. It was definitely better than the stuff we got, but it was also soupier, and thinner in consistency. Kobolds were able to taste and smell more than humans, and I could taste the flour in the stew, thickening it; it was a common ingredient, but there was more in this than normal, giving it a slightly doughy taste. I would give it a 7/10, too soupy, but everything else was nice.
I looked up and asked, “Do you know Ayme Mynes?”
She looked up, confused about the name or maybe just the first bit. “Ayme Mynes,” then I gestured, ‘you, known?’
She shook her head, ‘no, know,’ then she spoke, “AEMe Mynes.”
She would have been from a long time ago. Who knows if they wrote it down. Even if they did, it's not like Ahnahbehth would just remember some ancestor from generations ago. I was sure that I wouldn’t remember a great, great, however great grandmother.
We sat eating for some time, the sound of spoons moving stew from bowl to mouth. Somewhat quietly, we finished, and I thanked her for the food. She shooed me to my room after I started washing bowls, so I left her to it.
Up the ladder and into the room she had given me, closing the trap door I took in the room. There was some light still coming through the window, but the dusk would soon become much darker. There was a tinderbox and a lamp on a table. A pot rested nearby on the floor, and a large bed filled with who knows what rested in the loft space on its own frame. At the base of the bed was an empty chest, ready to be filled with all the clothes I didn’t have. The roof had woven thatch held beneath clay tile. Most of the clay we would get was from the mouth of the valley and the base of the valley, maybe the area had a small village near the area it came from, or maybe it was imported. If it was an import, it must have been relatively cheap. Many of the larger houses I had spotted had shingles made from clay.
The floor, like downstairs, was made of wood, and the room was quite spacious. I could fit in here 10 times over with how I used to live. It was a room fit for a noble, a poor noble, but a noble nonetheless. It was a far cry from a bed of straw held in place by a tiny pit, sharing a room with 10 others on a floor.
I went and made my bed, I didn’t know what parts went where. I knew that you covered a bed, but not what the sheets were used for. I covered the bed with the thick sheet because it was the most comfortable and then took the sheet thin ones and curled up below them. I reached out to the sky and said goodnight. It wished me a good dark time. Then I curled up, unable to sleep, remembering the day before. It had been a long day, or I suppose a long 2000 years. It felt like a day. I remembered my promises to Kindly and Skipseo. They were waiting for me in that old church. I just couldn’t keep my word yet, I would come back for them. I apparently had forever.
My thoughts kept me up past dusk and into the night. A strange light came from the window, playing with shadows. At some point, my thoughts put tears into my eyes, and I started to cry. I cried to myself until I passed into sleep.
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Annabeth Mynes had waved her guest off when she started to make a mess of the plates. After cleaning the dishes and dumping the dirty water out, she retired to her study. Whoever this Safene was, she had known the name, Mynes. Annabeth had taken note of the dinner prayer and decided to get a copy of the scripture tomorrow to try and decipher a way to teach her. Many people were religious in the Kingdom of Halsian, and one of the many ways children were taught was by using a copy of children’s scripture. If she got a copy and gave it to her, she could pick up words after she learned to read, she might even be able to learn to read from the book if she could remember which verse was which. On top of learning directly from her, gosh, what a tricky thing to think of.
She had no clue about most scripture, her mother had taught her personally, much like her father had taught her brothers personally. The Mynes household, unlike many other noble houses, was much bigger on personal teaching. Her mother had kept her around when she had nursed her younger brother. Taught her until she was 16, and they set up her engagement, even though it would be years until they could get married properly. When she came back and explained the circumstances, her mother understood more than the men of the family that she had done the opposite of what she had been taught to do. While she disapproved of her tricks, it was her Father that had pushed her out.
Her mother understood when she let slip who she was likely to marry, she would use it; she just didn’t realize why she wouldn’t take the foolish scion for herself. Canny and focused her Mother was, but she didn’t like magic and had never been trained in it. Magic had changed everything for Annabeth, it was the one non-family way to get teaching on things. Her parents wanted things, and it had taught her with the idea that she would fulfill them.
The [Cleric of Nature] that taught her magic and advised her tried much the same.
In a way, they had fooled themselves when they made it apparent that they both wanted different things from her. They taught her that the adults in her life both thought differently, and she learned that lesson well. Many people don’t realize children understand twice as much as people think they do, they see themselves as above their childhood, not as the continuation of it. A babe can learn a language from scratch, it's expected of them, they can just pick up on the words and recognize the pattern and repeat it. By two years of age, they can speak in full sentences and express themself, even if minorly. Why wouldn’t a child pick up on the idea they're being used when they recognize the pattern?
Annabeth went through her thoughts and wrote them down in her journal. She found that it made it easier to put them down on paper, like emptying her head. Reading, Writing, and Speech. Speaking was generally the easiest; babies start speaking first, obviously, then reading and writing after that. All of that on top of showing her what chores she wanted to do, but Safene was fully grown, it would be easy enough to show her what to do. In fact, she could teach her words and what chores to do at the same time.
Maybe I could teach her more than just simple stuff before chores, a slate would be a gods send. I'll place the order for that tomorrow, along with the book.
Now that’s done, who is AEMe? Who was this Mynes she knew of? When she had left her household a grown woman, she had been given a few tomes to take with her, one of them had been a family history dating back to the founding of Moarn, its how she had learned this place was once a valley and she had read the book voraciously when younger to understand the history of the land she lived on. She looked through that book now, searching for a name.
It was nightfall before I found it. Reading by the light of a flame next to her. The lamp flickered as she read.
Aymelin Mynes, Daughter of [Lord] Ebernaught Mynes, Wife of Nathanian Mynes, formerly of Aspergot. Mother of Nathan, Sommelion, Sampsion, Saphene, Amelia and Gertrude Mynes. Born in the year 632 PU. Ruled House Mynes From the years 16 to 130 HD. Aymelian, formerly Ayme, was the illegitimate daughter of Ebernaught Mynes, and his only child to live through the fall of old Moarn. Aymelin Mynes, was responsible for the….
I stopped reading not when I became confused, but when the lamp dimmed suddenly. When I looked up, I saw the flame leaning towards the window and the light coming through it. I walked to the window to peer through it, and what I saw confused me further and frightened me.
“What in the name of trees…”
Around the perimeter of my grove, phantasmal lights permeated the forest. Lights hovered through the trees flickering around, and a carpet of light whispered up from the ground like fog. I could feel it, the lights hauntingly echoed. Magic whispering through the ground and across the night breeze. The feeling of the way the mana reached for me, even through the grove, was unsettling. I pulled back from the shuttered window and called on my grove to push the mana out, block it from entering this place, and I felt my skill take hold. Like a phantom limb, the grove reached for the mana gripping it. I could feel the cold of it, hear phantom noise, words lost like leaves on the wind. I couldn’t understand them, but I could feel them reaching for this place.
Feel them reaching for power, reaching to grip it, trying to take it for themselves. Trying to slow the flow of the mana. I held it tight against the raking cold of the whispers of light. They were many, but I was stronger than them.
They kept fighting for some time before spreading out in search of easier prey, and I knew it was prey they sought for. Whatever they were, the whole damn town would know about it. The only whisps that stayed were few and persistent. They did not claw as much but pressed against the barrier looking to be let inside. I did not let the things in, I picked up the lamp, barred the front door, double-checked the windows, filled the lamp back up, and curled up underneath my blankets like a child afraid of the dark.
“That’s tomorrow Beth’s problem, I am not going to get jumped by ghosts without a [Cleric]”
And I went to bed. Very tentatively. After I made sure whatever they were wouldn’t get in. The confusion and concern followed me into a nightmare.