Kind of Sweet

The city of Silverquay grows larger in the distance.

Osric watches, his head out the window. He’s reminded of the last time he was here. That’s right — what happened after I passed out? Are we going to run into Broadhold again? That could be trouble.

He pulls himself back into the carriage.

“What happened to the fat guy after I passed out?” Osric asks Randolf.

Randolf’s head rests in his hand. He stares out the window, his elbow resting on a decorative metal rail attached to the carriage wall.

“After I had slain the dark-skinned mercenary, he begged me for his life. I told him I wasn’t after his life and just wanted the girl. He left Elayne and ran away,” Randolf replies. His gaze doesn’t leave the window.

He said that so nonchalantly, like killing him was nothing. Osric thinks, observing his side profile.

Anyway — that means the creep is still here. But if he was begging for his life he must have been scared shitless, he’ll just leave us alone if he sees us.

The rumbling of the carriage slows, the door is swung open.

“We’re here.” The beastkin maid gestures for them to exit.

“I’ll be right back, need to use the latrine.” Randolf exits first.

Osric steps out after, and is greeted by the colorful buildings and the red bricks roads of Silverquay.

The vibrant and crowded city unsettles him; he has a bad taste in his mouth. He swallows to try and wash it away, but it won’t leave. His vision blurs and armpit sweat streams down his sides, soaking his shirt.

"Scuse me... Excuse me... Excuse me!" The maid’s voice snaps Osric back to his senses.

“If you’ll excuse me, I will stable the carriage at an inn.”

The black cat maid’s face is inches from him. He jumps back, startled. When did she get so close?

She stares at him, waiting.

“Oh — yeah, go ahead and park or whatever,” he says, still not completely there.

She gets back on the carriage, whips the reins, and the horses take off.

“No wait, the painting!” Osric rushes after the carriage.

The maid pulls the reins and the horses stop.

He hops up into the carriage.

He picks up the canvas, glancing at the beastkin woman painted on it; she has dark-gray fur covering her body. With pointed ears, and fangs, much like Elayne. Her eyes are a cloudy, lighter gray than her daughter’s. She is painted wearing a burgundy kirtle dress, much like what Catalina wears.

I have yet to see a beastkin in proper clothes. Elayne was insistent that she be painted in that too.

He looks over at her seat. “Hey Elayne...”

Where is she?

The seat is empty.

He jumps out the carriage and scurries to the front.

“Where did Elayne go?” he yells to the maid.

She points down the street. “She ran that way while you were staring off into the distance,” she answers before riding off.

“Oh, no...” Osric takes off down the way she pointed.

>>>

Osric stops his sprint, nearly collapsing. He breathes heavily, one hand on his knees, the other holding the painting. Why didn’t I tell him to use a smaller canvas. This thing is half my height — how am I supposed to carry it around?

A passerby bumps into him, knocking him down. The painting slides across the street.

“Watch where you’re going!” he yells into the flow of people, not even sure who bumped him.

Several people trample the painting. “Hey!” he yells at them.

His thoughts wander as he walks over to retrieve the canvas. This is bad. I can’t find Elayne anywhere. Why does she always run off? It’s like I’m doing an escort-the-NPC mission.

His head on a swivel, he continues down the road.

“Give me that!”

Osric recognizes that grating, annoying yell. He turns to his left — there she is. He hobbles over.

“I’m telling you, that’s not enough — leave!” an older voice replies.

Elayne stands in front of a small shop. An arm sticking out of her cloak points at a leg of smoked ham hanging from the roof. An older balding man in a white apron stands behind the counter, displeased.

“Elayne! Stop running off like that!” Osric yells, still out of breath.

“Take your two coppers and get out of here!” the shopkeeper shouts.

“Buy me that!” Elayne peers down at Osric, bent over sucking wind. Her arm still outstretched toward the ham.

Osric scans the dried meat stand; his eyes settle on the giant leg of smoked ham.

“Did you not eat breakfast before we left? Why do you need smoked meat?” he questions.

“Give me more coins!” She reaches into his cloak, aiming for the sack of coins hanging from his belt.

“Hey, hey! Don’t take my money!” He backs away.

“You didn’t give me enough!”

“Ugh.” Osric rolls his eyes. I gave her two coppers just so she would stop pestering me. Maybe I shouldn’t have given her anything.

Her hand jerks toward him. She reaches for his belt again — he backs up, again.

She suddenly lunges forward, tackling Osric. Her hood is blown off her head, and the painting flies out of Osric’s hand.

Elayne, now on top of him, wrestles for the bag. He grabs her arm, trying to restrain it — but she overpowers him. She makes it to the bag, ripping it off his belt. As she pulls it away, he manages to grab it. They struggle for control of the leather sack, stretching it as they pull. Elayne digs her knee into his stomach as she stands. Osric follows, maintaining his grip on the bag. The tug-of-war continues.

Elayne’s glare grows more vicious as she starts growling and baring her fangs. As if the growling gave her more strength, she yanks the bag out of Osric’s hands, pulling him forward. He loses his balance and ends up on the ground again.

“Hmph!” she snarks, leaving him on his stomach.

She prances back to the shop.

“How much?” she asks.

“Uh, do you know that boy?” the shopkeeper asks, sticking his head out of the shop, looking at Osric, concerned.

“How much?” she repeats, ignoring his question.

“Fifty copper.”

She fumbles with the bag.

“These are silver.” She holds it out to him.

“That’s five silver, then.”

She slowly picks out one coin at a time, mouthing the numbers as she counts.

“Here!” she hands him five silver coins.

Osric struggles to his feet, watching the interaction. What a pain in the ass this girl is!

She walks over to Osric as he dusts off the painting.

“Now let’s go,” she demands, holding her ham.

“You could have ruined the painting, you know!” Osric yells at her back as she paces ahead of him. “If we don’t have this, we won’t be able to find your mother.”

He’s ignored.

“Can you even eat all of that?” He catches up to her, looking at the large leg she holds.

“It’s for my mother. She really likes ham.”

“Oh...” He stops.

A tinge of guilt starts bubbling in his stomach. That... that’s kind of sweet. If she told me that, I would’ve bought it myself.

“Oh, we have to meet up with Randolf and the maid,” he remembers.

“Elayne, let’s turn around.” He runs after her.

She stops. Osric catches up and realizes why she stopped.

The street opens to a plaza. A beautiful plaza; colored buildings line the circular red brick path. An intricate stone fountain in the middle.

The same beautiful plaza where they both almost died.

Standing next to Elayne, he feels her shoulder shake, bumping into his. She grabs his hand, gripping it tightly — too tight.

His hand throbs as her grip just keeps getting tighter. He doesn’t care. The pain feels like nothing to him. The images in his mind are worse.

He’s lying in a pool of his own blood. Pain surges from his chest to the rest of his body. In front of him, there’s Elayne, on her back. She grunts with every breath. The vile smell of burning flesh stings his nostrils. In the distance are the three charred bodies of mercenaries — the mercenaries he burned, the mercenaries that screamed in agony as they burned to death.

“Hey, wake up... Wake up!” Someone’s shaking him. Digging their fingers into his shoulder, they shake him faster.

“Wake up!” Elayne yells, kneeling over him.

Next to her, Randolf and the maid stand over him.

He jolts to his feet, clutching his chest.

“What happened?”

“We found you both collapsed in the street,” Randolf explains.

“Are you injured?” the maid asks, lifting his shirt and examining his chest.

Osric pushes her paw away. “No, I’m fine.”

Osric clears his throat. “Alright, onward!” He marches down the wooden steps of the building he had been lying on, wiping sweat off his brow with his cloak.

“Let’s start the search!” he yells back at them.

>>>

Osric pulls on Randolf’s sleeve, the two stop. The maid and Elayne keep walking, blending into the crowd.

“Uh, weird question. So, I killed three of those mercenary guys. Am I going to get in trouble here?” Osric asks.

"Oh, I see what's happening here — my boy is becoming a man. Your first few kills are grievous, but it was in self-defense, right? Nothing to be ashamed of," Randolf pats him on the back.

“Mercenaries and bounty hunters know the dangers of their job. They also weren’t from here. If it’s the same here as in the Kingdom, you should be fine.”

Osric sighs. See, I’m fine. Why did I freak out earlier?

“Your mother wants you to wear your hood, remember.” He pats Osric on the head then lifts the hood over him. 

“Right.” Osric replies.

They set off down the street again.