Day Two of Week Thirty-Four

At last, after weeks of misery, turmoil and strife, I can begin an entry by saying that things are going pretty boringly. Dully? Oh the pleasure of being able to worry about whether a word is a word!

The day after my previous entry thing certainly seemed like they’d continue on pace. When I woke up past midday, Stefan hadn’t opened the door, Raufa had yet to be seen, and what few of us remained were uncertain just what the hell would come next, myself included. The burn on my face should perhaps not have been minimalized, though I can hardly blame myself, and it showed signs of turning sour over the night. I was rather at a loss, and feeling rather under the weather.

Pritchard, surprisingly, took charge. Well, with a smidgen of help from Madeline. He insisted we go and seek aid from the nearby druids of Cairen fort, for both myself and Raufa. I protested, but the rest concurred, rather forcefully, and told me I wasn’t in a fit position to be making decisions. I took it perhaps not as cleanly as one might hope, the odd comment about one's mother was made, questioning of sanity, some other such things. Either way I was firmly ousted. And frankly, what a blessing it has been!

Pritchard and Madeline discussed plans, Henrique and May having eagerly offered to help, about how best to approach the fort as regular traders. I offered the odd snippet of my own wisdom into these matters, but truly these fine employees of mine really took charge.

They did insist I assault Stefan’s door, what with their own useless crying producing no results. I acquiesced, and the door opened.

“She’ll live.” Stefan had barely gotten the door open before saying it. He gazed at me, at the rest, then back at me, twisting his skull as he spotted my burn. He gripped my jaw harshly, turning the offending side towards him, and let out a dissatisfied hum.

“We’re going to the fort,” Madeline called from behind him. “To get some stuff for him and her. We already have a plan, you can’t tell us no.”

“So it seems.” he said. “If you’ve a plan, I’ll trust you not to fail.” He finished his examination with another hum. “Propolis based ointments are best. Honey resin. They’ll know what I mean. And some Hemlock, while you’re there.”

“Hemlock?” May asked. “That’s poisonous. What for?”

“Tea.”

Stefan shut the door. I rubbed at my brow, feeling quite out of it, turning.

“Got all that?”

“Yep,” Madeline said, hands on hips with a firm nod and an even firmer smile. “Hemlock. Prop, uh, Propulus. Honey resin. Got it. Now, Oskar, please tell me you have money?”

“He does,’ Pritchard said. “Somewhere.”

“Bottom drawer of my clothing cabinet. Left side. Under my lucky knickers.” I paced by them, a harsh dusty wind battered my exposed face. “Agh. And save your surprised gasps. The medical needs of a dear employee is one of the few expenses I’m loathe to spare.

I mostly meant Raufa of course, though a few of the rascals have been growing on me of late. By which I mean everyone but Pritchard.

Beyond that, frankly, I did very little. It was such a nice break from all the running around. Once those lot had set off, looking stressed and haunted, I meandered about the camp, petting and feeding the horses, examining the gold we’d taken from the dragon’s lair, wondering if I ought to move it from its various containers into the barrels we’d procured, before deciding we oughtn’t work on an off day, re-read some of my previous entries - Gosh what a good writer I am - and a few other bits and bobs. The pain of my face gave the whole day a sad tinge, but frankly it was well spent.

The group returned in the next night - last night as of time of writing - with quite a tale to tell of their risky exploits, disguising themselves as more mundane traders, finding that the entirety of Fort Cairen was practical swarming with druids, porters and merchants, the various questions they’d been forced to lie through, so on and so forth. Probably a worthy story, were I to care. I don’t. Moreover this is my adventure story Diary of Oskar Sleeman Miles, Owner of the Dragon Piss Merchants, not Various Employees of the Dragon Piss Merchants and their various whimsical exploits!

REFLECTIVE JOURNAL - STEFAN

Anywho, a nice change of pace to be sure. You slept some more, awoke this very morning feeling much better, and after another half day of lounging about, surprisingly and thankfully Raufa emerged!

Now, unfortunately, your prophetic phrasing in the previous entry proved to be true. The pinkie an ring finger of her right hand were gone. The others were a little scarred, probably saved by the angle of her defense, and the entirety of her arm, shoulder and much of her neck was thoroughly bandaged. As she staggered out, the entire band rushing forward to see her, she kept that side and her head entirely stiff. Luckily stiff and unyielding were her natural inclinations in terms of gait, so frankly this was a relief.

Among our garbled collection of gasps, questions and exclamations Henrique’s ‘Holy shit that’s bad-ass’ managed to push through to audibility, earning a kick in the shin from his sister. Stefan emerged from the cabin, eased himself to sit on the step. Someone asked how she was.

Then she, uh, smiled, and that scared us a little bit.

“I’ve given her a few things,” Stefan said with a calming gesture, as if he somehow saw the smile from behind. “Painkillers and the like. She’s going to be a little whoozy, perhaps a little happier than usual.

“Uh, good?” Madeline said.

“If you like. Her wounds are extensive and I tried to explain that the best thing for her to do is sleep and rest and not move. You can imagine what she said to that.”

“No?” I asked.

“Or you can say it.” Stefan spread his hands wide. “Yes. No. How are you Oskar? Do you need anything?”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

“Can always use something to take the edge off,” I half-joked, not willing to take my eyes from Raufa, and her subtle but very odd behaviour. Things like actually looking at people, blinking more than once an hour, and responding to stimuli. It reminded me of when Elisa first brought her home, a lost puppy soaking wet from the rain. Nevermind, not going there.

“So.” I clasped hands together. “Thank goodness. Druids, huh? Amazing work.”

“You know they could have just healed her properly if we’d been able to take her there,” Henrique said.

“Yes,” Pritchard said before I could fire off my prepared rebuke. “But we don’t have enough money for that, and they’d be just as likely to shackle her and us than actually offer help. Given the situation, I’d say this is a positive outcome.”

“But maybe,” Madeline said, approaching Raufa’s whole side in smooth, easing steps, as one might approach a untamed beast. “Maybe when we get money, we could find some druids willing to take a bit extra, give her recovery a bit of a speed up?” She looked around. “I’d be willing to pitch in, from my part.” Most daring of all, she slipped her fingers between Raufa’s own dangling digits and gave them a squeeze. “Wouldn’t that be good, hun?”

Raufa considered the grasped hand, shook it free with a broad wave that forced Madeine to take a step back, and set off for her cabin with a muttered ‘Sure.’

“Oskar.” Stefan had approached, laid a hand on my shoulder. “I think it’s time we discuss our next moves, get a move on. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The somewhat coercive tone he’d adopted seemed rather unnecessary, since I’d been about to steer the conversation that way anyway. Perhaps he was testy from working on Raufa’s injuries for so long. Or maybe he was grouchy from being annoying and alone all the time.

“Naturally. I have to say - and I really mean it this time, not that I didn’t mean it the other times, I just mean I really mean it this time - good job, everyone. Truly, this was a tough few days, but each of you toughed it out, did your part, and together we came through it. Roughed up, certainly, but… We’re safe. And we can move on into the next task with a bit of pride in how we handled ourselves.”

“Holy shit that was actually a heartfelt speech that didn’t ooze bullshit,” May said with a smirk. “Sure you didn’t already sneak some of Stefan’s stash?”

For fuck’s sake, May, was the rough thought that accompanied my deep cringe.

“I - you know what?” Madeline said, approaching the girl, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Too right, Oskar’s been a bit of, well, a dick bag lately.”

Pritchard hummed.

“A prick,” May added.

“An absolute tosser,” Henrique finished.

“Aye, those too,” Madeline said. “But, you know, I think this little incident proved he can be nice too. And cares about us. I think he’s matured, learned a bit more about what it takes to be a good boss, and a good mate.”

“This all sounds like a veiled insult,” I said.

“It kind of is,” May said, coming up to fling an arm over my shoulder. “Or maybe it’s just a bad compliment, Bosskar.”

“Okay, very nice, consider this lack-luster heartwarming moment officially over.” I removed her hand. “Let’s avoid these in the future, please. Seriously though, we’ve plenty of hours left in the day, and somewhere to be. If Raufa’s up and about, I think it’s time we move on. Agreed?”

I got a few shrugs, a couple nods, a blank-faced mask and a horse nickered.

“Good enough for me. Stefan, think you can work while we’re moving?”

He walked past the group a ways, glancing over the sinking hillside and the flatter paths beyond.

“Not up here, but once we hit an actual road, certainly.”

“No, no no!” Pritchard erupted, raising a firm finger in protest. “I am not trailing behind that stink cloud again! I was nauseous for days, and my teeth still look yellowish!”

Amongst the frowns of varying confusion and worry, Stefan approached and leaned in.

“You let him trail me while I worked, Oskar? You know what sort of things those fumes do to people.”

“And?” I muttered back. “Do you have a problem with that, Mister Solar Terrorist Man?”

“No, I’m merely surprised by your lack of morals. Do as you wish, but he likely won’t survive another treatment of my process’ byproducts. I’m surprised he’s still standing.”

“Yes, alright,” I said with a sigh. “No, Pritchard, you won’t trail behind again. I’ll drive at the back this time. And you’ll be fine, I promise. Stefan works with the stuff all the time, and he’s as spry as the day he was born!”

“Well, alright then!” Pritchard folded his arms. “Then, alright. Fine.”

“Your teeth look fine, Pritch,” Madeline said, guiding him away. “We’ve all got a little yellow in our teeth, see?” The two fell out of hearing range, but a few mutters and an exposed jaw on his part elicited a small jump out of Madeline, but you were calmed to know that she was on the job. A little talking to form the woman he fancies ought to calm the man right down.

“I’ll, uh, start packing up then shall I?” May asked, scratching her head.

“Please do. And May? Henrique?” The two stopped turning. “Really, good work. Especially you Henrique, holding it together after you fucked it up so badly with that sneeze. Really, you surprised me.”

The boy snorted, muttered something like ‘what a tool’ and hurried away. May gave a rather condescending look to the both of us and followed suit.

“Oskar,” Stefan began.

“You know you can just start talking,” I told him. “You don’t have to address the intended recipient every single time you start a new topic.”

“It’s polite. Oskar-”

“Yes, what is it Stefan?”

“I could have give her plenty of pain killing medicines that didn’t addle her senses, but Raufa was displaying some rather odd behaviour.” He came to stand in front of, his shoulder set in a sort of conspiratorial huddle. I glanced over at the open door of Raufa’s wagon, too dark and distant to see within.

“Well getting cooked alive’ll do that to you.”

“Amusing as always. I’m speaking of the sort of behavior you see when a veteran soldier relives his memories of being attacked, or perhaps attacking and killing his first opponent. It’s not a well understood phenomena but my profession and condition allows me more opportunities than most to spot it, and I have, in her. Is there something I ought to know?”

I, of course know what he’s talking about, and you’ll read it here, Stefan, that it’s none of your business and you should keep out and shut up.

“I know what you’re talking about, Stefan, and I promise you it’s nothing to worry about.” At his continued unfazed look I added, “And it’s none of your business. So keep out of it and be quiet.”

“I’m afraid I must insist,” he said, raising a hand. “This sort of thing has ruined many, and Raufa is rather vital to our operation. It’s to do with our continued success, and as such I feel it now concerns me. I’ve gathered that this unelaborated first encounter with a Dragon did not end well for either of you, yes?”

“Of course it didn’t, it’s a Dragon. Stefan if you want to talk about it with her, bother her about it, but now your treading on my private business and I’ll thank you to back off.”

Hands on hips I stood my ground, staring straight into that dumb, pale, boring face plank of wood or whatever he calls a face.

“For now,” he said, turning, probably thinking he sounded mysterious instead of dumb and rude and annoying, which is what he really sounded like. He stalked into his cabin and shut the door.

Beyond that one annoying encounter the rest of the day rattled on uneventfully. Piss was transferred into proper containers, horses were saddled and such, blah blah camp stuff, and with a handful of hours left in the day I set off down towards the roads. With everyone rested up I rattled on a while into the night before turning off the path, not bothering to set a proper camp, and snoozed. My face hurt so I wrote for a while before sleeping but I’m done now and rather tired so I think I’ll sleep. Goodnight.