Nrorce sat on the warm sand, just enjoying the sound of the tireless ocean expending itself on the shore. He couldn’t deny that the environment of this place was… pleasant. He came to explore the Ghosthound’s world in an effort to understand the young man, but also as a way to get away from his house, so stuffed full of agonizing memories. When Randidly offered someone to show him around, Nrorce had snorted and left without answering.

That departure had been relatively satisfying. A small fistful of power that Nrorce had taken for himself. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to escape the memories as easily as the nagging Randidly. As the frothing water receded after each wave, he could almost see tiny footprints chasing after the edge.

Daddy daddy! Look how fast I am! The sea can never catch meee.

His lips stretched, almost unwillingly. His body was honest, even if his heart ached and tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. And even if it does catch you, I’ll always save you, love.

A cool dagger whispered open his chest and slid into his heart. Nrorce narrowed his eyes and hunched his shoulders, but otherwise didn’t move as the emotions expended themselves. It was not fair to say that Randidly had caused this pain; if anything, he had saved Nrorce from a slow, necrotic death of ignoring the pain until it consumed his soul and left him empty, a scarecrow tending his farm.

Just the problem was now he had to face that pain every moment of every day-

The soft patter of feet on sand distracted Nrorce from his anguish. He considered fleeing, knowing how Jekyll and hyde the population of this world could be when it came to unexpected non-humanoids in their proximity. He had already been glared out of several small establishments in the week he had been exploring Expira.

If he hadn’t been able to flare his image and cow most people of this world, he suspected they might do worse than stare.

But he was high on the dunes above the water and the noise came from below. So he stayed still, deciding to simply observe. Yet what eventually passed below opened his eyes as widely as they would go.

A young boy, perhaps only ten, loped down the beach with larger strides. However, his posture seemed agonizing. He was bent sharply at the waist as he moved, so that his torso was perpendicular to the ground. Meanwhile, his neck curled upward to allow him to see where he was traveling. On his back was a massive backpack that was almost double the size of the boy. And based on the way it bounced, it was incredibly heavy.

More than a child, he resembled the long-striding, long-necked flightless birds that Nrorce’s daughter always found delightful.

His expression was bored, but Nrorce didn’t miss the way he adjusted his feet as the waves came, running along the edges and following the receding water back toward the ocean in order to do it again.

Even Nrorce couldn’t really believe he started the interaction. He raised his voice and called out to him. “Kid, what the hell are you doing?”

The boy stopped his feet and twisted his neck around. His feet skidded forward through the soft sand. He blinked twice at the small blue goblin but quickly began marching toward him. Unfortunately for the boy, his burden was so heavy that each step he took up the slope of the sand dune had him sliding down just as far. After about thirty seconds of just carving away at the side of the dune with no progress, the boy took a few steps back, got a running start, then jumped the five meters up.

He landed with a massive explosion of sand that sprayed Nrorce’s face and left him sputtering. The dune underneath them trembled a little, but didn’t collapse. Nodding to himself in satisfaction, the boy took off his backpack and set it on the ground. Only then he seemed to notice Nrorce’s efforts to get sand out of his eyes. “Oh, apologies, fair traveler. You are actually my first customer, so I’m a bit nervous.”

“Customer?” The goblin wrinkled his nose at the word, but the boy had excitedly launched into a rehearsed speech without noticing.

“I may be a new arrival on the scene of competitive mount-ing, however, I assure you that I’ve trained tirelessly to reach this point,” The child’s eyes practically glowed as he looked at Nrorce. “My legs are strong. I’m good at conversation. I have a compass. My speeds are far higher than you could manage walking on your own and my company is golden-”

“Did you say ‘mount’?”

Nrorce’s question didn’t slow the kid down at all. The light in his eyes brooked no irrelevant questions. “I’ve also brought several variations on the saddle for your comfort. Considering your tiny legs, I think this” The kid walked up to the backpack and began to rummage through the massive array of pockets. He picked out and discarded several leather saddles. “...err, well, I don’t recall where I put that. I’m sure we could find something you’d like! So, what do you say?”

The kid spun around and spread his arms wide, as though the two of them were about to embrace. Then he stood there and simply stared at the tiny blue goblin with a wide and expectant smile on his face.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

That optimism made Nrorce’s heart clench.

I suppose this is better than non-human discrimination… Nrorce pressed his lips together. “Let’s not… just jump into anything. What is your name?”

“Oh, I’m Sunan, the human mount!” The kid proudly proclaimed.

“...and you want me to… use you as transportation to my destination…”

“Yes!”

*****

“Commissioner Arrietti!”

The booming voice from the far end of the beach as Arrietti walked down the plank onto the shore made him flinch. His shoulders folded in on themselves; he already felt a rather constant throb of strain from the strange environment of this island, made suddenly worse by the knowledge of what was to come.

“Look, hey, Arrietti! It’s us! It’s been a while!”

The few workers on the barge, obviously being aware of who Arrieti was, gave him long glances when he didn’t respond. Just as he began to pout, Selene gave the underside of his arm a gentle pinch. “You know, they aren’t attacking you; they treat you like this because they want your approval. They quite fancy you”

“My approval?” Arrietti muttered in response. “After they ruined my sanctuary with their-”

She patted his shoulder, as though she hadn’t heard his words at all. “Have fun with your friends- I need to go help with the pit digging. It’s been a while since I’ve smoked meat the old-fashioned way.”

She glided away, as serene and kind-eyed as always, but Arrietti watched her departure with a glum expression. Then turned around to almost a dozen of Heiffal’s best assistants beaming happily at him. These powerful individuals arrived at his side like a landslide of muscular bodies, filled with confident (and painfully strong) pats and handshakes.

After some greetings were exchanged, the leader gave Arrietti a conspiratorial wink. “Obviously, our efforts here in this storm of the Ghosthound’s are to train ourselves. But that doesn’t mean we haven’t done our own occupations on the side. Come along Arrietti, we need to show you the special ‘break zone’.”

Arrietti’s heart sank, but they were already dragging him across the sand. He didn’t need an explanation of what the special break zone would entail. Again, he felt that thrill of panic that he would somehow reveal himself for a fraud in front of these enthusiastic powerhouses. “Errr… is that appropriate right now? Also, considering the strange storm over the island-”

“Now is precisely the right time!” A woman with small, fluttering bat wings pumped her fist. “For two days, we are free from training!”

The leader cut in as they rounded the edge of the sand beach, coming upon a rockier area. “Plus, the storm is actually the greatest boon to the game that we’ve ever encountered. The ever-shifting nature of the environment means that you need to adjust on the fly! Images are dampened! Your physical power can only carry you so far!”

So Arrietti allowed himself to be carried along as the group veered sharply away from the beach and headed deeper into the island. They wove around trees, the training Overseers laughing and hooting in pleasure. The strange pressure of being within the storm continued to wear at Arrietti’s nerves, but he gradually calmed himself.

Sometimes you are like a fowl. Selene sometimes said to him when he came back to their shared apartment huffing over the day’s work. It’s less than something legitimately bothers you, but that you just need some time for your rustled feathers to settle. And that’s fine.

Soon, they arrived at the bottom of a low hill where three bowling lanes had been painstakingly carved. Their glossy black surface spoke more of obsidian than polished wood, but Arrietti supposed they would be smooth enough. Strange metal arms curled up from the hill above the lanes, but he realized that they were likely canopies with the covering portion removed. He had heard that the island experienced a constant rain during the actual training sessions.

Gleaming balls of precious metal sat by the head of the lanes, gold, sapphire, and emerald. The pins were slightly oversized and appeared to be carved from ivory. Silver lines wove themselves in graceful swirls across their fronts.

“Isn’t she a beauty?” The leader asked. Arrietti had been inclined to release a begrudging nod of acceptance, but his eyes widened as something else caught his attention.

He pointed to the top of the hill. “What… are they?”

“Oh, the ants?” The woman with the bat wings shrugged, as though ants as large as motorcycles were a common occurrence. “They own the territory North of this. Sometimes they come to watch.”

Every few seconds Arrietti cast a worried glance over his shoulder at the ants, but the Overseers dragged him forward and encouraged him to give the lanes a try. Soon he had the gold ball in his hands and stood at the head of the lane.

At the very least, Arrietti mused. They have the good sense to finally be silent when the ball is in my hand.

Now that he stood at the lane with the ball raised, he could see how the Overseers were right. The pressure storm the Ghosthound made with Nether was extremely strange; it exerted influence on several aspects of life. So it could erode both kinetic momentum and also image power, so it was difficult to predict how injecting either into the ball would result. Arrietti felt a little more familiar with the environment, but still unable to guess how to throw a good ball.

So he shrugged and took his smooth steps forward. His plant foot was sure and he felt the satisfying flick of the wrist as he unleashed the ball, burying just a seed of his image in the object before he released it.

The bowling ball seemed to skate sideways toward the gutter zones and Arrieti’s panic rose again in his chest. But then the spin caught the glossy surface; they did an excellent job replicating wood in obsidian. There was a strange wiggle to its movements due to the storm, but the ball smashed the pins in an explosive arrival.

A strike.

If anything, that just made Arrietti more nervous.