Chapter 19 - One Week to Lillinberg (Day 4)

Walking, walking, walking. By this point, the twins were getting sick of walking. The woods had grown stale and conversation had run dry. Even Sol’s repertoire of songs had reached its limit.

Luna was especially frustrated. She still hadn’t come to terms with the defeat of the day before. She spent most of her time with her eyes glued to Detect Magicl, waiting for the moment another dire deer came to give her a chance at redemption.

“Ahah!” Luna perked up, a mana register finally appearing after hours of nothing.

Something was off, though. It was faint. The dire deer’s mana signals weren’t particularly bright, but they were at least more prominent than the weak little glow before her now. Dire creatures’ mana was always wild too, as violent and desperate as the animals themselves, but the signal was only weakly pulsing every few seconds.

Concern rose within Luna, something was strange. “Turn west a little.” She instructed. “I’ve found something.”

Somehow Luna began to doubt even her own impressive magic. They had reached the supposed destination of the magical power, but there was no source. No monster, nor beast in sight.

“Where’s the deer?” Sol asked, still a step behind.

“I didn’t say it was a deer.” Luna replied, scanning the treetops for any signs of magic.

Naturally, Clint was the first to discover it; face down in the dirt was a small woman, about half his size. Her breath was soft and shaky, signifying a life that was barely hanging on. Her ears poked out from dark curls of hair, pointed, but shorter than even a half-elf’s.

Immediately, Clint crouched down to aid her, offering a hand to pull her up. Her olive-skinned fingers reached out weakly. He met her in the middle, pulling her to her feet and keeping a firm of hold of her as she got her bearings.

Although she was small, she was an older woman. In mankind’s terms, she must have been somewhere in her late 40, crow’s feet settled at the corner of her eyes, the suggestion of wrinkles starting across her face but not quite settled by age. Her long dark lashes flitted over her large brown eyes, struggling to stay awake and struggling even more to focus.

“It’s alright. Take a seat.” Clint soothed, helping her to perch on a fallen log nearby. “We still got that food?” He turned to Sol.

“We do, but it’s the last we’ve got…” He hesitated.

“Give it to her. Water too.” Clint ordered, leaving no room for discussion. He knew the severity of the woman’s situation. He was well accustomed to the sight of a body walking the borderline between life and death.

Sol passed him the last of their food, as well as one of their only skinfuls of water. Clint offered them to her. “Eat slowly now,” he said.

Obeying, she weakly tore at the hard bread, teeth barely able to get purchase with how weak her jaw had become. It was likely she couldn’t even speak. Clint passed her some water, allowing it to wash over her dry, cracked lips and soften the bread she was struggling with.

Recovery took a while, but Clint gave the woman all the time in the world. It was an hour before she finished her bread. Another half before she was able to speak. “Th-thank you.” she muttered, eyes finally staying open.

Clint sat up, leaving her side for the first time. “‘S alright.” was all he said.

Luna, who had long since grown tired of holding her tongue, began her questioning. “What were you doing face-down in the middle of the woods like that?”

The woman began, voice still weak and unfamiliar to itself. “I got lost. I came from Lillinberg.”

“Lillinberg? Man, that’s really lost. We’re still a few days out.” Sol commented, earning an awkward hand-waving protest from the woman.

“These woods are easy to get lost in! I mean, as you said, they’re huge, right? It takes days to get through them.” The short lady quickly responded.

“What’s your name?” Luna moved on, not wanting to stress out the poor woman any further.

“Marrie, like to marry, Gauld, like Gold.” She said.

“Like a marigold!” Sol added helpfully.

“No, not at all.” Marrie responded with a quizzical look, thoroughly dejecting him.

“Are you a spellcaster, Miss Gauld?” Luna asked.

“Mrs. And oh, I wouldn’t be so bold, I just do a little healing, fix up cuts and bruises around the house.” She was modest, blushing at the mere suggestion of such a lofty title.

“That explains the signal.” Luna thought.

As the two spoke, Clint sidled over to Sol, quietly asking “Why’s she so little?”.

Sol gave him a wide-eyed stare, like he had said something profoundly offensive. “She’s an Auf. They’re small.” He said quietly in return, as if acknowledging such a difference was itself an offence.

“May I ask you three a question?” Marrie piped up, pulling Sol and Clint out of their secret chat.

“Shoot.” Clint replied.

“Are you headed to Lillinberg?” It took her a moment to say it, like it was some grand request.

“We are! It’s the nearest town, isn’t it?” Sol took over, he was the most competent socially.

“It is.” She nodded. “W-well, if it’s not too much trouble, could I…?” She struggled with her sentence, it felt pathetic to ask for yet more kindness from people who had already given her so much.

“‘Course. We’re headin’ the same way anyway, ain’t we?” Clint said, making one of his signature mid-sentence exits.

Marrie held her hands together, a tear almost forming in her eye. “How lucky I am to meet such kind people.” She thought, smiling as she fell into line behind them.

The Auf quickly settled into the group. She was surprisingly agile for her size, easily able to keep up despite her shorter legs. Much like Sol, she was an eager conversationalist. The two of them chattered away throughout the journey with frequent interjections from Luna and the extremely occasional response from Clint.

“What’s Lillinberg like?” Sol chirped, still on the come-down from one of Marrie’s amusing anecdotes.

“Oh, Lillinberg?” A smile spread across her face, already nostalgic for her home. “It’s wonderful! Whatever you’ve heard, double it!” Her arms spread as wide as her smile, quantifying the immense love she had for it.

“I’ve heard it’s like something out of a storybook! All the houses are brightly coloured, each a work of art in its own right! And the food! I remember Uncle Merc brought us back a jar of Lillinberry jam. Best thing I ever ate, hands down!” Sol recalled everything he knew excitedly, legs unconsciously speeding up out of a desire to reach such a promised land. “The festivals too! I hear they can last for days, just non-stop dancing and feasting! Is that true?”

“Yes, it was! We pride ourselves on our food and festivals!” Marrie said excitedly. “It’s a shame you’ve not come at a better time…”

“Was?” Luna raised an eyebrow. “What’s changed?”

“Ah, yes.” Marrie shrunk into herself. “There’s, um, been some trouble as of late.” She confessed, now earning Clint’s yellow stare on her. “The weather’s been just terrible! Our fields are flooded and mud’s gotten everywhere! That’s why I was out this far, you see.” Her words poured out quicker as she went on. “Food is growing scarce, and I run an inn, so I thought I should venture out to pick a few extra fruits. Turns out, I’m quite the poor navigator, so I wound up here.”

“Ahh… That explains it.” Luna hummed.

“Explains what?” Marrie asked.

“The strange behaviour of the local goblins. Of course there’s no adventurers to rob or fields to raid if Lillinberg is having such trouble with its harvests.” She surmised.

“Ah… Yes, I was wondering why we hadn’t seen many goblins of late.” The Auf added. She could feel Clint’s eyes on her back still, prompting her to redirect their conversation. “Did I hear you mention an uncle? What was his name again?”

“Merc! Well, Mercury.” Sol bubbled with excitement. “Did you meet him?”

“Mr. Mercury? Yes, I did! Four years ago or so. He was quite the charmer!” Marrie smiled, ears flattening as she remembered the pleasant memory. Aufs had far more expressive ears than elves. They were less rigid and contained more muscles; It was a way to compensate for their small size, allowing them to direct their hearing and avoid predators more easily.

They perked up as another thought crossed her mind. “Ah, if he’s your uncle then you two must be…”

“Royalty?” Sol answered for her.

“Nobility.” She finished. Clearly Sol had answered wrong.

“Royalty?” Marrie yelped, ears jolting skyward. “Oh my, I’ve been conducting myself all wrong! Please forgive me! I was unaware Mr. Mercury held such status!”

“He doesn’t.” Luna sighed. “Regardless of how he acts…”

“We just call him that because he was a member of Dad’s party.” Sol added.

“Then… Your father is…” Marrie suddenly grew stiff, collapsing from sheer shock at the revelation of the twins’ bloodline. Marrie was an average Gallian citizen, and as such she held King Terra in high regard. To even share a look with the royal family was unthinkable to the everyman, so the kind of companionship she had been enjoying was far too much for her to handle.

“How about we set up camp? It’s getting late anyway.” Luna hummed, prodding at the starstruck Marrie as she lay flat on the floor.

Once she recovered, Marrie insisted on setting the fire for the party. She did it manually, sparking flint together onto dead leaves and wood shavings, eventually lighting a pyre of logs that Clint had collected for her. It was far slower but it created a much homelier flame than the magical ones Sol was able to spawn.

Sol took a seat at the fireside, warming his hands eagerly. His fire was designed to burn, not to warm, so being able to get so pleasantly close to a flame was quite special for him. “This is amazing, Marrie. Thanks!”

“Oh, please, it’s the least I could do for both my saviours and the prince and princess of Gallia!” She said, blushing. “And you too, of course.” She nodded to Clint, smiling softly.

“Please, just treat us like any other adventurers. We’re friends now!” Sol smiled.

Marrie’s instinct was to protest, but she was cut off by the rumbling of her stomach. “I do apologise for asking but… What are our meal plans this evening?” Aufs had big appetites and high metabolisms. Though she dared not admit it, Marrie had been unbearably hungry for a while. It was a wonder how she made it to the edge of starvation, given she struggled so much with an empty stomach.

“Ain’t got none.” Clint was blunt.

“Yeah, Clint gave you the last of our rations.” Sol rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” Marrie gave the impression she would slit her own stomach to return the cracker-bread if she could.

“Don’t be.” Sol smiled. “We’ve got a plan to get more food anyway.”

“Do we? If it’s a repeat of last time, we’ll all starve before we reach Lillinberg.” Luna mumbled.

“I mean, you were the one who went overkill on the last dire deer.” Sol rolled his eyes.

“I know that!” Luna snapped, slender fingers daring to tear through the leather of the spellbook in her hands. “Why do you think I’m studying so hard? I’m going to find a new spell.”

“No need.” Clint waved a hand dismissively. “I got a new plan.”

Luna protested, Sol leaned in. Marrie… Was not paying attention.

“Did you say dire deer?” Her ears flickered toward Clint.

“Uh, yeah.” Luna said.

Marrie leapt to her feet, eyes sparkling. “I have the most wonderful recipe for dire deer! It’s a venison roulade! I haven’t made it in years! Please, if you can hunt one for me, I promise you, it’ll be a meal fit for the royalty that you are!” Her ears flitted in every direction, eagerly awaiting a response from one of the three around her.

The twins began to salivate. Even Clint was tempted by the idea. A venison roulade. A far finer dish than anything they had eaten in a long time. Months for the twins, having had no such luxury since their adventuring began. A lifetime for Clint, who had done nothing but make do his entire life.

More importantly than the promise of wonderful food. They simply could not imagine disappointing the woman before them, wide brown eyes shining so purely with enthusiasm.

“Alright.” Luna steeled herself, for Marrie, for the venison roulade, and though she wouldn’t admit it, for herself, she would put her faith in Clint. “What’s the plan?”

Current Party: Clint Morgans, Sol Dragoneart, Luna Dragoneart, Marrie Gauld

Bullets Remaining: 5