The train charged forward along the track, its wheels clacking against the rails while wind spirits rocked the iron giant back and forth. The landscape outside the window, a blur of green trees and rolling hills, passed by swiftly. I sat on a red velvet seat, watching the world move along. Lost in thought. I pondered what could have been and how everything had gone wrong. Life was so unfair sometimes.
I sighed and leaned up against the window feeling sorry for myself. First, because I had been traveling for a few days nonstop. Second, because I had to go to Glueburn and meet my uncle, Finneus Burgeon. It was my mother's idea that I be sent to the city to learn from my uncle. I was not interested in going, but she did not leave me much of a choice. After one rather serious incident, she tossed me out, saying, "Bartholomew, you need to do some growing up, and Uncle Finneus is just the person to help."
It took me only a short while sitting on the train to realize, it made no sense for me to be sent to learn from him. From all the stories I had heard, Uncle Finneus was peculiar, even by elven standards. He was one of the oldest of our kind, and according to my mother, obsessed with puzzles, shapeshifting magic, and hallucinogenic drugs. He had been exiled from the forest by the council of elders nearly 200 years ago after they decided he was too much of a negative influence on the younger generations. My mother once told me a story about how, according to her, the decision came after one of the 80-year-olds ran naked through the forest and had sex with a deer. He later claimed that the beast was a fae princess with whom he was in love. Little did the poor elf know that the entire episode occurred while he was high on mushrooms given to him by Uncle Finneus. During the story, my grandmother mentioned that Uncle Finneus had laughed so hard when he first broke the news to the community that he fell off the tree branch he was sitting on.
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The train slowed to a stop at Glueburn station, and I gathered my bags, stepping off onto the platform and into my new home. The noise of the bustling station struck me like a physical blow. I took a deep breath to calm myself and found that the air was so thick with sweat, piss, and smoke that I choked. Coughing, I made my way through the crowds of creatures, scanning their faces as I tried to identify the races before me. I compared them with the pictures from the books I had read, and I was only half-successful.
As I watched the crowd, an orc tripped over a basket and was subsequently kicked in the head by a passing human as it lay on the ground. I continued watching as three other creatures stomped on the prone figure as they walked by before another orc came to the figure's rescue. Deciding I had seen enough of the train station, I set off to find my uncle's house.
After fifteen minutes of walking aimlessly, I had to admit that I was lost. Looking around for help, I spied a cat-like woman selling squid and strolled up to her stall. "Sorry to bother you, but could you direct me to 102 Golden Trout Way?"
The cat-like woman looked me up and down and pointed to her stall, saying, “I only help paying customers.”
I blinked, then realizing what she meant, grabbed a bronze piece from my pocket, and placed it on the counter of the stall. “There, could you tell me where to go, please?”
The lady shook her head. “No, you have to buy something. I’m not just going to take your money.”
“But I don’t—” I paused and took a breath, then pointed to one of the candied squids hanging behind her. “I’ll take that.”
She wrapped the squid up for me and handed back a small penny as change. "I don’t know where 102 is, but if you take this street that way for about a mile, you'll reach the intersection of Golden Trout Lane and Dolphin Toe Drive. Just pay attention to the signs, and you'll find them. After that, pay attention to the numbers. I'm sure you can figure it out for yourself."
I thanked the creature, though with some frustration, and set off up the stone road. It had been a long day, and the last time I had eaten was more than twelve hours ago. So, with morbid curiosity, I took a bite out of the candied squid I had just purchased. I second later, I threw the disgusting in the trash.
After that, I found the house without many issues and made my way towards it. The building was a mix of different styles, with a mishmash of windows, turrets, and balconies. It looked like something out of a fairy tale or a horror story. I walked up the stairs and knocked on the door. There was no answer. I knocked again. This time I heard movement from behind the door and stepped back.
The door opened to reveal a tall, lean elf with sharp features and a piercing gaze. He answered the door with a cane at his side. "Good afternoon, Uncle Finneus. My name is Bartholomew Burgeon," I said offering him a small bow and making sure not to stutter on any of the words I had rehearsed a thousand times while on the train.
"So, Antonia's boy," he remarked. "I was wondering when any of my relatives would come to visit me. It's been a century or so since someone of my own blood has graced me with their presence. Come in but take off your coat and shoes. I don't want the smell of squid to stink up the house."
I did as he asked at the entrance, then followed him inside. The interior was just as eclectic as the exterior, with mismatched furniture and strange artifacts scattered about. I couldn't help but feel like I had stepped into another world.
"You're looking well, Uncle Finneus," I commented as we walked into the living room, unsure of how to start the conversation but giving it a shot.
"No need to brown-nose me. I won't cast you out. I've needed an assistant for a while now. I think you'll do nicely," he replied.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
We sat down in his sitting room, and my uncle poured us both a glass of wine. I couldn't help but notice the odd assortment of objects scattered around the room. There were puzzles stacked haphazardly on shelves, strange contraptions sitting on tables, and even a sword cane leaning against the wall. And every time I shifted my gaze from one thing to another, I would see movement. It wasn't anything dangerous, just black shadows darting away, but I could never catch them in my view, the creature, whatever its nature, was always just out of sight.
"Are you not going to give me the letter?" my uncle asked, extending his hand.
"Of course, sorry. How did you know?" I blushed, embarrassed for staring and being caught doing so.
Uncle Finneus grunted and took the letter from my hands. He draped himself over the armchair and began reading. After a minute, he tossed the letter behind him into a haphazard pile of papers and said, "It appears you have been exiled from the forest for the next twenty years."
"What?" I exclaimed, jumping up and running over to the letter to see if his statement was true.
It took me a moment to find the letter among the pile of papers, but there it was in black ink: my martial sentence. Mother had made it sound like she was just sending me away for a while. There had been no mention of the council.
"Don't worry. Twenty years isn't so bad. It will pass in the blink of an eye," said Uncle Finneus.
"It's half the time I've been alive!" I replied, struggling to keep my composure.
"Quit whining, child. Your mother has begged me to take care of you and teach you to be less of an idiot. Life is looking up for you. Many would beg for the opportunity you have through nepotism. But let's move on. Now, Bartholomew, what do you know about spatial awareness and deductive reasoning? Did those drab creatures educate you on the subject when they were teaching you?" he asked, lighting his pipe.
I thought for a moment before responding, my mind reeling from the recent revelations. "I don’t know anything about spatial magic Uncle Finneus. As for deductive reasoning, that's the act of using reasoning and logical thinking to draw conclusions or solve problems. My mother taught me that. Why do you ask?"
Nephew, I said spatial awareness, like how you perceive your environment or how well you are aware of it. I said nothing about magic. As for deductive reasoning, that's a good definition. The ability to take in all the evidence and use it to form a logical conclusion could mean life or death, depending on the situation you're in. Especially for an elf-like yourself," he explained.
"I don’t think I understand what you mean, Uncle Finneus,” I said, still trying to catch up to the odd conversation.
Uncle Finneus took another puff from his pipe. "Look at it this way, Bartholomew. Here you are, a young elf alone in the middle of a colossal city, without any experience dealing with other races. How will you know when one of them is mad at you or sad? Such expressions are universal, but only if you can recognize them. For instance, the grin of a Ursalis is very hard to tell apart from its sneer. It takes some spatial awareness of body language and environment to deduce what's going on if you don't already have ample information. And you, Bartholomew, have next to none."
I wanted to argue that I was one of the best students at the Elven University of Riverdale but felt that it would sound too childish. "What if your deductions are wrong?" I asked instead.
Finneus chuckled. "My deductions are never wrong. It's the information I base my deductions on that might be incomplete or faulty. For my deduction to be wrong would mean the internal logic I’ve been for the last 800 years has begun to fail me. And I have yet to see any signs of that," he remarked confidently.
"Oh, okay," I replied, my concern growing at the prospect of living with this unusual person for the next twenty years — unless, of course, he decided to kick me out or worse.
Finneus took a long drag from his pipe. "It all begins with observation. You must pay attention to every detail, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem. From there, you start forming hypotheses and testing them against the evidence before you. For instance, have you asked yourself why I knew you were Antonia's boy? Or how you were going to stay with me, or why did I believe you had a letter for me?"
"Well," I said, thinking hard, "you probably guessed something from the suitcases I was carrying. As for the actual details of how you came to those conclusions, I don't know."
My uncle Finneus grinned. "So, there is a brain inside that head of yours, even if it's small. Trying to burn down the mother tree within the elven forest. What were you thinking? But yes, you're on the right track. To start, your body gave you away. You were tense and uptight, and your face told me you were nervous and worried. Together with how similar your facial structure is to your mother's; it was easy to put two and two together."
"Sounds simple when you put it like that," I said.
My uncle sniffed. "Show some respect for the skill I've developed over centuries."
"Oh, sorry," I said, feeling somewhat chastened.
"You'll come to understand the complexities of the art soon enough. Come along," said my uncle, putting out his pipe and standing up. "I'll show you to your rooms."
I followed him, making sure to grab my bags, as Uncle Finneus continued to talk. "There's a guest bedroom on the eastern side of the house. We'll have to clear out a few things to make it suitable for living. But it should suffice for you."
Uncle Finneus opened the door to my room. I stood stunned for a moment at the sheer amount of stuff that covered the walls, floor, and bed. It was mind-boggling. Trinkets, artifacts, and weapons were everywhere, including a miniature trebuchet tucked away in the far-right corner.
Uncle Finneus laughed. "You look like a frightened doe. Don't worry; I have some magic chests in the back. Most of this will fit into those. As for the rest, you'll have to pick your favorites to decorate the walls of your new room."
He brought the chests he had mentioned to my room and then left me to my own devices. I looked at the two chests, then at the pile of items in my room, trying to figure out how I was going to fit it all into such a small space. There wasn't much room. I glanced around and reached out for the first item I saw on the ground. It was a wooden mask with red glyphs carved and painted into it. The glyphs looked familiar, but I couldn't remember where I had seen them before. What I did know was that they were filled with power, a type of power I couldn't recognize. It was a fascinating piece, so I set it aside to save for later. It wasn’t often that even an elf had the chance to examine native magical artifacts like this mask.
The next object I picked up was a staff that sent a pulse of life magic into me as soon as I touched it. Dropping it on the bed, I picked up another item within the room, and then another. I shook my head in amazement. Every artifact I picked up contained some sort of powerful magical incantation. The sheer value of it all was staggering.
As it turned out, my initial concern about not having enough room was unfounded. The two chests Uncle Finneus had brought over were made using spatial magic, so the space inside was much larger than it appeared. The entire bedroom would have fit inside the chests. In the end, my main problem as I settled into my new home at 102 Golden Trout Lane was deciding which primordial artifact to keep on display and which to store away.