“Look, I like charred snake as much as the next person. Nothing hits the spot better when you’re stumbling home after a night at the tavern.” Rasp tore another chunk of piping hot meat from the skewer with his front teeth, feeling the warm juices dribble down his chin. He wiped the grease from his scratchy beard with the back of his sleeve as he wandered between the busy vendor stalls, sweeping his cane across the cobblestone street ahead of him.

A flood of blurry citizens flowed around him as if he was a turtle amongst a stampede of rabbits. As most passersby avoided acknowledging him, Rasp felt inclined to return the favor. He carried on, still chewing, “All I’m saying is that the local kebab business could do with some variety. Remember that muskrat we had a couple months back? Practically orgasmic.”

Croak.

“What do you mean you preferred the chicken?” He lifted the half eaten skewer higher, allowing the raven perched on his shoulder to tear a morsel free with a violent shake of its head. “You’re a bird. Isn’t that like, I don’t know, cannibalism or something?”

Unable to speak clearly around the beak full of meat he was scarfing down, Father gargled his reply instead.

“I know you’re not a chicken! It’s just weird, is all.”

Croak!

“For the last time, I did not eat that man’s foot. I bit down a little too hard and a piece got in my mouth. I panicked and swallowed. Me accidentally ingesting the tip of someone’s pinky toe is not the same as you going out of your way to eat another bird because you enjoy the flavor.”

Although the mass of festival-goers shuffling around him constituted little more than hazy shadows, Rasp was certain he saw a number of heads turn in his direction. In all fairness, the blind vagrant sharing a skewer of crackled pork belly with the raven perched on his shoulder was probably reason enough to stare. Even without proper eyesight, he knew he looked a mess. His silver hair had grown out and now hung around his ears in a dirty, tangled mess. He had several month’s worth of a patchy beard on his chin and the layer of filth was probably the only thing keeping his traveling clothes from falling apart at the seams.

Father offered a compelling rebuttal to the bird-eat-bird dilemma, forcing Rasp to sigh in agreement. “Chicken is more tender, I’ll give you that. Don’t know what it has to do with fava beans and wine though.”

Croak.

“Obviously I don’t know the difference between Chianti and Amarone! I keep telling you, if we’re going to have these conversations, you’ve got to keep it on my level.”

Around them, the late evening air was crisp and laden with the fragrance of bloomed chili spices, roasted meats, and enough cut onions to make his eyes weep. The dark sky was held at bay by countless twinkling yellow lanterns strung between the food stalls that lined either side of the bustling street. The Hanover city market was alive with activity as vendors cried out their wares to the passing patrons. The swaths of festival goers swarmed around Rasp, conscious not to touch him. As much as he would like to pretend this was out of conscientiousness for his cane, he suspected the odor from his unwashed skin was probably equally as responsible for their wide berth.

Under Father’s semi-helpful direction, Rasp was able to navigate the throng of blurry shapes until the street widened into a piazza of some sort. A structure rose up out of the cobblestones at the center of the city square. Rasp struck out towards it, certain he now knew what this curious landmark was. As he drew nearer, the soothing trickle of babbling water reached his ears, confirming that this was another one of the realm’s curious creations known as a fountain.

The more of the realm Rasp explored, the less of it he understood. Fountains, for example, had no function other than something to be enjoyed. Apparently you weren’t supposed to drink or bathe in them–a fact Rasp had learned the hard way. Lucky for him, Whisper had managed to talk the local authorities into releasing him with a warning after explaining that Rasp had been kicked in the head by several horses as a child.

He rested his cane against the lip of the fountain and sat on the damp stone. Mist from the water feature pitter pattered against his shoulders each time the evening breeze changed direction. Ignoring the chill, Rasp tugged a steaming chunk of pork from the skewer and tossed it into the air above him. Father leapt from his shoulder in a flurry of dark feathers and claws to retrieve it.

With his traveling companion temporarily distracted, Rasp scarfed down the rest of the food as quickly as he could. The last charred morsel was being shoved into the side of his cheek when Father landed onto the stone lip beside him with an undignified screech.

“Wha’?” Rasp managed around the mouthful. “I’m bigger than you. I get more.”

He regretted his gluttony almost immediately. The coarse salt crust was so thick it made his tongue burn. Attempting to chew the pork into a more manageable size, Rasp instinctively reached for the waterskin hanging from his hip when he remembered he wasn’t wearing it. The waterskin was back with the rest of his meager belongings, stashed under a bush–coincidently, the same place he was supposed to be.

Waiting for the other members of his party to return from their errands was boring though. And with the enticing sounds and smells of the Hanover Autumn Festival calling to him from within the city walls, Rasp had no choice but to abandon his post and wander aimlessly inside. For strictly educational purposes of course. After all, how could he expect to learn to blend in as an ordinary citizen of the realm if he spent all his time hiding in the bushes? That sounded more akin to a pervert and he didn’t wish to be mistaken for one of those. Again.

A passerby drew closer in Rasp’s limited field of vision. His heart rate spiked, fearing they were going to strike up a conversation. His fear was for naught, he realized, when something struck the cobblestone between his feet with a metallic clink.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Rasp watched the mysterious shadow as they shuffled back into the indiscernible tide of moving bodies. Forcing down the rest of his food with a difficult swallow, he asked, “Did they just throw something at me?”

And Whisper said he could never pass for an ordinary citizen, ha! These people weren’t so different from him after all. They, too, threw random objects at strangers. The thrower could stand to work on their aim though. It hadn’t even gotten close to hitting him. Every experienced antagonist knew you either aimed for the head or the nuts. It was the basic fundamentals of being an asshole.

Croak.

“He threw money at us?” Rasp tilted his head to the side curiously. He saw father’s blurry shape start to move for the prize and leapt into action, shooing the raven back as he scrambled to be the first to claim it. “Get your dirty talons out of here! You don’t even use money.”

Croak! Croak! Croak!

“I don’t care how shiny it is. He threw it at me, therefore it’s mine!” His grease covered fingers were just grasping the coin when Father’s body struck him in the back of the head. With an awkward squawk, Rasp toppled over onto the cobbled stone. He twisted and turned, flailing his arms and legs in order to keep the persistent raven at bay.

Father’s talons skittered against the cobbled road as he hopped just outside of Rasp’s range, croaking up a storm.

“Of course I’m acting like a child! I am a child. Your child, specifically! What’s that say about your stellar parenting, huh?”

They continued in this manner for several moments more before Father gave up. It was a good thing too, because Rasp was now completely winded and in severe need of something to drink. With a groan, he rested his head against the rough stone and stared up at the lantern obstructed sky as he considered all of the poor decisions that had led him to this new personal low.

Traveling the land with his mentor, Whisper, wasn’t all bad. In fact, it came with some very unique upsides. In addition to learning how to actually use his powers, Rasp was also getting to see life outside of the Iron Ridge. Well, not actually seeing it. Experiencing it was probably a more accurate description. But he got to taste it, and smell it, hear all of its terrible sounds and, sometimes, amidst the ever present chaos of running from one territory to the next, scouring the realm for some ancient artifact he didn’t care about, he got to kick a few asses too.

It almost made it all worthwhile–is what he told himself every morning as he dragged his protesting carcass out of whatever hidey-hole they’d bunkered down in for the night. Some days, the lies were all that kept him going. Tall tales such as: one day this will all be over; your enemies can’t possibly come after you for the rest of your life; maybe you’ll get to see Faris again.

“Is there a problem here?” Still staring pointlessly upwards, the blurry outline of a person loomed over the top of him.

Rasp couldn’t make out anything distinct about their features, but from the authoritative tone, he assumed they were wearing a uniform–the kind that usually came equipped with a little shiny badge pinned to their breast pocket, a baton hanging from their hip, and a false sense of superiority. Best to play it safe then. “A horrid creature attacked me,” Rasp said. “I barely escaped with my life!”

There was a notable pause as the looming shape appeared to twist his head this way and that, searching the surrounding area for the creature in question. “All I see is a bird.”

“Ah, well in there lies the problem, good sir. For I cannot see anything. I had no way of knowing whether the foul beast was a bird or a small, feathery dragon.”

The officer’s voice changed from mildly concerned to ‘it’s time to move along, sir’. “We received several noise complaints–”

“Yes, it seems it was a very noisy bird,” Rasp agreed.

“You were referring to it as Father?”

Croak!

“Hey, you stay out of this! No one asked you,” Rasp snapped before realizing this probably wasn’t making his case. “I call anyone who attacks me father. Ingrained childhood trauma and whatnot. It’s a bit of a reflex.”

Rasp pushed himself into a sitting position and scanned the area around him in the event things took a turn for the chaotic. He could just barely make out his cane resting against the brim of the stone fountain several paces away. If he moved quick enough, he could probably grab it before the officer grabbed him. Whether or not he’d be able to get any further was a question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to.

“I see. Do you have somewhere to stay tonight, sir?” The officer probably already had a convenient place in mind. The kind of room that came devoid of all furniture with white, padded walls and a padlocked door.

“I do. In fact, it’s probably time I get headed in that direction now.” Rasp rolled swiftly to his feet and was moving back towards the fountain when the officer’s hand clamped firmly over his shoulder, yanking him to an abrupt halt.

“I don’t want to make any assumptions about your circumstances, but if you would allow me to help, I think I might be able to find you some place with a nice bed, maybe a hot meal, a bath…”

Rasp’s brain automatically filled in the blanks. Some fashionable wrist bracelets, a nice shiny chain, maybe a lobotomy or two.

Whether or not the officer was finished speaking didn’t matter. Ducking low, Rasp slipped the man’s grip and whipped around, moving steadily backwards until he bumped into the fountain. “Oh no, no, no. That won’t be necessary.”

Croak.

“More than one?” Rasp’s eyes darted back and forth across the muddled city square, realizing he could barely make out the faint outlines of three other officers closing in around him. “Fuck! Why didn’t you say something before?”

Father’s reply was idiotic as expected.

“Because I wouldn’t give you the damn money, really? Fine, take it! I’m not going to need it wherever I’m going, am I?” Rasp hurled the offending coin in the direction of the officer whose shadowy figure was edging noticeably closer.

His attacker dodged, narrowly avoiding a collision with the squawking ball of feathers and fury that chased recklessly after the coin. “Easy, old man.”

“Old man?” Rasp felt the drum of his heartbeat quicken as heat flushed across his face.

“Let’s not make a scene here. Come quietly and we can get all of this sorted out for you.”

Rasp was still caught up on the ‘old man’ part. He thought it had been bad when everyone used to call him ‘boy’ all the time, but this was so, so much worse. Just because his hair was silver didn’t make him old. It was times like this, Rasp found, that the best way to prove he wasn’t some old geezer was to act as immaturely as possible. Granted, the argument could be made that this was his solution for everything, but there wasn’t any sense in fixing what had been broken for too long already.

“Good sir,” Rasp said as the familiar warmth of magic lit a fire within his weary bones, “I’ll have you know I refuse to do anything quietly!”