It is late at night in Tarn’s Rest. The twin moons have already begun to dip toward the western horizon: Corvega, the larger of the two, is only a day or so away from being full, while Trydan, the smaller, has only the barest sliver of its entirety illuminated. The streets outside are frigid in the many hours of absence from the sun’s warmth, with only the lit braziers along the stone path that runs throughout the town offering any reprieve from the cold darkness.
The only people awake at this hour are the guards who make their rounds, all of whom are bundled up to combat the chill, save for one newly-appointed guard who neither feels the cold nor fears the shadows outside the light of the braziers’ flames.
Apart, of course, from those who have awoken in the middle of the night to get a drink, relieve themselves, or merely fetch another blanket to help combat the bitter night’s chill, the result of one last push of cold air of the season before Spring arrives, bringing with it warmth and rain to feed the hungry rush of life eager to grow after the yearly moratorium that is Winter.
There is one, however, who remains awake in spite of the hour.
Aderyn Rhys has always found a preference in the quiet, solitary hours of the night. The silence and lack of distraction is perfect for ruminating on whatever endeavor or bit of interest might demand her attention at that moment in time. For Addy, whose interests often border on the obsessive, there is always something to put her attention toward.
Especially considering that, for most of her life, her primary interest has been the ancient Monteith and the mysteries surrounding them: Who were they? Where did they come from? Where did they go? And, of course, how did all of their advanced technology function?
These questions have kept Addy up at night–quite literally–since she was a child and her parents first introduced her to the mysterious people of times long past.
Many people awaken early in the day to go about their duties, needing the light of day and/or the interaction of others to reach their goals. Addy occasionally needs such things like interaction with others, like for this expedition for whenever she teaches her classes back home in Halcyon, but her interests, her duties, require her to tinker with ancient technology and ponder on the purposes of it all, as well as on the Monteith who used it. And for this, silence and solitude are better than distractions and sunlight.
Not that she minds dealing with others. She likes talking to people, especially the ones she considers her friends, and doubly so if she gets to talk about things that are of interest to her. But some people get upset when she gets too excited, or they deride her for her “silly” interests and way of life. Though, those people just confuse her–that is, when she notices their disdain at all.
People have always told her that the point of life is to find one’s calling, or to contribute to society, or to just be happy. Yet, Addy does all those things. Her calling is her research, her contribution to society is a greater understanding of the Monteith, and all of it makes her happy.
Yet, she hears people talk: She should have a more useful interest, or contribute something that isn’t so obscure, or that her schedule or habits are weird and wrong. It’s confusing: How was she to know that there are secret, hidden rules behind every actual rule?
It’s confusing.
“It’s okay,” she mutters to herself. “They just don’t understand, like I don’t understand sometimes.”
It’s not like people would be mean for no reason. That wouldn’t make any sense.
Addy continues to ponder to herself, both out loud and in her own head, as she sits in her room at the inn on this quiet winter’s night. The wind, coming off the bay, rattles her shudders a bit, but that sound is drowned out by the odd, otherworldly sounds that would be out of place literally anywhere else upon Vale: Beeps and whirs from UNA and CAM as they curiously investigate the interior of the room, communicating with one another (and Addy) through mechanical chirps and hums; this is coupled with the sounds of metal upon metal as Addy uses her tools to tinker with her visor in an attempt to calibrate it to her artificial friends.
“No, it’s not different,” Addy argues, glancing over at UNA, who hovers over the wash basin. The flying drone’s one eye stares into the mirror as it curiously scans itself.
UNA responds with a few high-pitched chirps.
Addy rolls her eyes in response and says, “No, they just don’t understand my reasoning for how and why I do things. If they did, they wouldn’t think it was strange, now would they?”
CAM, who is presently attached to the side of her dresser in order to see through the crack of her shudders at the falling snow outside, lets out a few deep bloops.
Addy wrinkles her nose in confusion and says, “I don’t see how that many orifices has anything to do with our conversation.”
Another bloop.
“CAM!” Addy gasps, covering her mouth. “I really should’ve named you CAD instead.”
She sits her tools down and picks up the visor, inspecting it carefully. She places it on her head and lowers it over her eyes; immediately, several screens pop up within her field of vision: Two of them show what UNA and CAM are looking at, while other screens are imposed over various things in the room with bits of text explaining aspects about them, such as the type of wood her dresser is made of, or the composition of the fibers that make up her bedsheets.
“It’s a good thing Monteith technology is smart enough to decipher and incorporate unfamiliar languages,” Addy mutters, scrutinizing the ingredients in the leftovers of her dinner that sit on the nearby table.
I wonder if Dahlia would recognize some of these molds, she wonders.
UNA lets out a chirp.
“Not being understood would have done nothing to stop me from talking to you this much,” Addy says cheerfully.
CAM bloops.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Well now that’s just uncalled for,” Addy remarks, sticking her tongue out at her little four-legged companion. “I won’t correct Cashew anymore when he calls you a dog!”
A string of interspersed bloops.
“Nuh-uh, you already said it. No takesies-backsies,” Addy says as she lifts the visor back up. She leans off the side of her bed, digging around inside of one of her bags before pulling out a small piece of… something.
It is one of the odd pieces of Monteith origin that were found on the shoreline when Tarn’s Rest was being built. It is rectangular, a little smaller than a coin and much thinner, and is made out of some kind of material that is unfamiliar to the current era. It is no type of mineral that any scholar has been able to identify and is, for its size, incredibly light.
Addy recognizes whatever it is made of as being of Monteith origin, as some of the components of her visor, of UNA and CAM, and of various other artifacts seem to be made of the same unknown material. Despite having the piece for over a decade, she has no idea what it is made of, let alone what its function is.
Which, a decade of uncertainty is minor. Some artifacts she has in her office back home have remained a mystery to her for a hundred years if not more.
“What are you?” Addy asks rhetorically, turning the small rectangle over and over in her hands, eyes going over every bit of its shiny, smooth surface. “A piece of armor? Part of some ancient weather device? A button? Some kind of… magical egg?”
Impulsively, Addy holds the piece closer to her face and sticks her tongue out, licking it.
She frowns.
“You taste of untold mysteries and the flakes that come off old cast iron pots,” she says, sadly. “Kinda salty, too.”
Something suddenly bonks Addy right in the back of the head, causing her to jerk forward and her visor to fall over her eyes once more. “Ow!” She whines, rubbing the point of impact.
UNA lets out a few apologetic beeps as it lands on the bed beside Addy.
“It’s okay, UNA. But you might’ve not hit me if you were looking where you were going instead of trying to keep an eye on your mirror doppelganger,” Addy says.
Another couple of beeps.
“Yes, yes. They are not to be trusted with their inverted perspectives,” Addy agrees, turning her attention once more to the tiny rectangular piece of Monteith tech that she dropped onto the bed.
Which now has a small screen overlay attached to it, when viewed through the visor.
Addy’s eyes go wide, watching as the screen, which for most things displays the text in the common tongue, is gradually filled with text in a strange, spidery script that cascades vertically down the screen in tandem, differing branches.
Monteith, she thinks, in awe. It’s so rare to find evidence of the language in more than small chunks. The fact that it is even written vertically, not horizontally, is an entirely new development.
The strange writing shifts and warbles before it is replaced by common text.
“Wait wait nonono wait yes wait no!” Addy shouts, frantically grabbing for her notebook off the nearby desk along with her ink and pen. She flips the book open and begins scribbling, trying to quickly annotate the odd markings that were displayed ever so briefly on the visor, going over and over the images in her mind to keep them fresh long enough to recreate them–at least, as best as she can.
She finishes and stares at the scribbles across the open pages, amazed. This could be a major breakthrough! All she has to do is compare what is written here to what is shown–
Addy’s attention flicks back to the tiny rectangle on her bed, now curious about just what the text says. She reads the words, then reads them again, brow furrowing.
“GIX coordinate data relay marker. Initiate download?” She mutters under her breath, trying to parse the words presented to her. On the small screen displayed via her visor are two buttons, one marked “Yes,” the other marked “No.”
“Um, yes?” She says.
Nothing happens.
She tries to reach out and touch the intangible screen, but her finger just goes through it.
“How am I–wait,” she mutters, quickly grabbing her Monteith-made gloves from the side table, then putting them on. She reaches out and pokes the “Yes” button, which reacts to her touch with the gloves on.
A string of numbers and an empty bar appears, which gradually fills up. Once it is done, a small message pops up, reading:
“GIX coordinates downloaded; confirming present location.”
Addy stares, mouth open, as the message changes to:
“GIX approximately 500 kilometers due north. Indicated route enabled.”
A small flashing dot appears in Addy’s field of vision as she turns to face north. She moves her head, but the dot remains static, pulsing faintly.
500 kilometers north? That would be near the center of the Heart, Addy thinks. It takes her mind a moment to catch up to this very thought.
“Horsefeathers!” She shouts, standing up from her bed suddenly. “I have to–no, everyone’s asleep–but this, the Heart, what is a GIX–”
Shaking, she tries to calm herself unsuccessfully as she fumbles with the visor, taking it off.
“I gotta, okay, I know! I’ll just wait downstairs and then as soon as they wake up I’ll tell them, yeah, yeah! That way they won’t be mad at me for waking them up okay UNA you’re in charge until I get back!” Addy babbles before she runs out of her room.
UNA lets out a series of beeps that sound suspiciously like chuckling.
CAM, in response, powers down.
~~~~~~~~~~
Addy snorts and lifts her head up, blinking sleepily. She is sitting at one of the tables near the back of the Moonpeak Inn’s tavern area, still in her pajamas (covered in little cartoon owls). Her hair is a mess and the arms of her pajamas are wet with drool from where she had her head laying on them.
“Whuhzooit?” She manages to slur, trying to focus on the figure in front of her.
Dahlia tilts her head, a bit worried, standing in front of the very sleepy Addy. “Friend Addy, why are you resting here instead of in your room?” She asks. From behind her, the morning sun shines through the windows and the smell of breakfast wafts from the kitchen in the back. The rest of the dining area is thankfully devoid of people, at least for the moment.
“Cast iron… orifices,” Addy murmurs, half-asleep.
Dahlia stares.
Addy raises her hands, gesticulating clumsily as she continues to explain, “GIX relay–relayed. Re-lay-ed. Rectangles!”
“Friend Addy, are you inebriated?” Dahlia asks, worriedly.
Addy motions for her friend to come closer. Leaning in to whisper into the Goblin’s ear, Addy says, “Dots. Monteith in, in my eyes. North. Five hundred of ‘em.”
She then slumps onto Dahlia’s shoulder, snoring loudly.
Dahlia gently lifts Addy up, showing surprising strength for someone so small, and begins to carry her up the stairs back to her room. She passes by Felix on the way back to Addy’s room; he gives the two only a cursory morning’s greeting, unaware of the discovery that Aderyn will tell him later this evening, that will set the expedition’s course into the unknown wilds of the Heart of Vale.
And that will shape everything that is to come.