You can Go on Living; Towers are not a Roadside Attraction (Part 1)

Moonlight Guardian raised a hand, signaling Durroum to stop. The faint sound of a cart creeping along the footworn trail had perked her ears, shifting as she tried to get a beat on it.

"People?" Durroum asked. She nodded and held up six fingers. "Six people?" She nodded again.

Since that breakthrough back in the community den, Moonlight Guardian had made rapid advancements in her understanding of human language. For instance, she now understood the difference between a general and a specific reference. "Durroum" was a specific reference and referred to the man next to her. "People" was a general reference and referred to everybody... but so did "person." That still confused her.

They slipped behind some shrubbery and waited for the people to pass. Durroum had ditched the horse, probably because it made them easy to spot and harder to hide. Also, he couldn't swing a sword to save his life on the back of that beast, as noted when he fell from the horse—a foot stuck in a stirrup—as he tried dismounting in a hurry during an ambush. As such, he had wisely decided to discard the liability, though he seemed reluctant.

Whatever had caught her attention was probably nothing, but they had been subject to an increasing number of attacks. For every four or so uneventful encounters, another tried to kill them. If that wasn't bad enough, their attacker had been growing increasingly competent. Gone were the thuggish, undisciplined, and uncoordinated attacks. The most recent crop of assailants had employed group tactics to separate the two of them, and their fighting style demonstrated actual combat training—similar to those back in the first human settlement.

As a result, they too had started adopting less straightforward tactics, such as springing the ambush themselves, or failing that, using telekinesis to stir up dust clouds. Were these tactics necessary? Perhaps not, but better cautious than sorry. Not that she would lament his death that much.

In fact, she suspected that Durroum had earned these people's ire. At first, she believed that humans were just violent and barbaric, but the escalating competence of the attacks didn't seem random. More like increasingly desperate attempts to kill Durroum. They always went straight for him, and only responded to her when she intervened. She wondered what he did to anger them so. Not that she cared, outside of the burden it placed upon her.

The cart rolled by, oblivious to the two of them hiding only feet away, just an old man and woman—hardly the threat—with a cart full of what appeared to be clothes to Moonlight Guardian's eye. She relaxed; these people were harmless. In fact, they appeared to be easy targets. Durroum appeared to feel the same.

"… … easy," Durroum said, smiling as he dusted himself off and started back on the trail. "It … … … … day … we … the New Praven border." In some ways, she understood more of what he said than ever. In other ways, she was now more confused than ever. Before, she would ignore most of the sound that came out of his mouth, regarding them as little more than animalistic grunts. But now, she could make out the sounds even of unfamiliar references. As a result, she now found herself befuddled whenever he spoke, with the few sounds she understood teasing her understanding, forcing her to assign a meaning to Durroum’s speech.

Thus, she interpreted his statement as follows. "Easy" was the only thing she understood from the first part. From experience, she had learned that pauses usually indicated a segregation of ideas. Given the context, she figured he meant the encounter with the cart was not a threat or easy to deal with. However, the second part baffled her. "It" was a nonsense sound he used a lot that didn't seem to have a meaning. "Day," she understood; though it embarrassed her at how long it had taken to understand, but once she did, "night" came easily. "We" was a word that meant both of them. She found it strange that there would be a word that specifically referred to them both, but maybe they just made references as needed. "The" was another nonsense word, but preceded "New Praven," which was the reference to the area they were going to. That just left "border," which she both knew but didn't understand. Durroum had tried to teach her its meaning by drawing a jagged line on the map, tapping it like that would pound it into her head, but it didn't help at all. Her best guess was that it meant river, but rivers don't turn sharply. At any rate, they were heading in that direction, so she would eventually see this "border" for herself.

So what did this second statement mean? Well, from what she could tell, it meant that it was daytime for both of them and the New Praven border. But even Durroum wouldn't express something that stupid, so she figured she had misinterpreted.

"Yep, … … … day." He turned to her and exaggerated a grin using his index finger for emphasis. "I'm … happy!" She knew "happy." One of the sounds for emotions. She couldn't help but feel just a little sad despite herself. Needing to use sounds or being forced to rely on facial expressions to convey emotions was just wrong; one should be able to share them directly.

Facial expressions aside—she understood those—she had learned a handful of basic emotion sounds: happy, sad, angry, fearful. Advance language, she thought, until she learned of action references.

"Okay, … Going," Durroum said once he had finished cleaning the mud from his pants. Moonlight Guardian starred. He recognized her failure to understand and rephrased.. "Going... Umm... Go! We Go!" Understanding flashed across her face, but he only saw her rising ears.

"Go," she knew this sound. These action references confused her. Not because they represented an action and not a thing—though that was tricky—but because many different sounds existed for the same action, though they usually sounded similar, but not always. As such, even if she learned one utterance for an action, in this case "go," several other noises for the same action waited in the wings to confuse her. Human communication was stupid.

They emerged from the forested area into the open plains. Plains were both good and bad. Good because you could easily see potential dangers. Bad because danger could easily see you. Fortunately, the rest of the day passed without incident. Though perhaps a little more tension would have been appreciated, as Durroum felt comfortable enough to blather on at length about the Deity only knew what.

Ever since she had started to understand human language, he had started spewing out ceaseless fits of noise, undeterred by Moonlight Guardian's complete incomprehension. She wanted to tell him to shut up, and while he understood some of her higher-level thoughts, this one he apparently could not, though sometimes she suspected he only pretended. On her end, even if she knew the sounds, she would be unable to form the words. Perhaps she would have practiced, but the prospect alone made heat rush to her ears. She certainly wasn't about to croak out any sounds around this man.

"So the moral of the story is always inspect the goods upfront when dealing with a one-eyed prostitute," Durroum finished. She had no idea what he said, but despite her annoyance, she did make out all the sounds. If she was going to be subject to a complete lack of tranquility, she might as well try to learn something.

He paused just long enough to take a drink from his water skin before launching right back into it. Moonlight Guardian heaved a heavy sigh.

His estimations had been correct, perhaps even a bit conservative. A bit of sunlight lingered in the sky, and the New Praven border lay within spitting distance.

"There it is Amm Par," Durroum said with a flourish of his hand. "The New Pranven border." Amm Par's interest piqued, and she strained her neck forward, looking left and right, before giving off a very distinct sense of consternation. She turned her head to face him, sweeping her finger to and fro. "Yep, New Praven." That didn't seem to be the answer she wanted. What he wouldn't give to be able to see her facial expressions.

After a long moment of puzzling, she lost patience and reached into his vest pocket and grabbed the map, impressing him with the ease with which she snatched it. Unfolding it, she aggressively pointed to the border. He still didn't know what she was getting at until she ran her finger along the jagged border he had drawn.

Oh... She had expected a physical border of some kind. How to explain? She seemed to understand what New Praven was. Did the yutsuukitsuu not have the concept of a border?

"New Praven." He pointed off into what was New Praven. "Alocast." He then gestured to the area around them. Amm Par nodded. Good, she understood. Approximating where the border cut across, he tried to divide them with a finger stroke. "Border." She tilted her head.

He tried again on the map, pointing out the two areas and trying to create the connection that a border was where the two met. "Alocast." He slid his finger down, starting at the border, and did the same but with an upward motion for New Praven. She rubbed the bottom of her mask, and he could see the wheels turning. She still probably didn't get it, but she was close. Anyway, more important things needed tending.

Resting the night, for instance. As luck would have it, a guard tower stood right next to the trail. Not actually lucky, New Praven had placed it there specifically because of the trail. And it wasn't the only one; they had intentionally placed guard posts within eyesight of each other, forming a wall of surveillance on Alocast. Back when New Praven had first broken free of the Old Caster Empire, they had built them as a deterrent, but now only served as a token presence as Alocast seemed content with their present holdings.

That being said, they made for a helpful rest stop for travelers. As they approached the tower, the soldier sitting in front of the door sprang up and rushed over to greet them.

"Well met, travelers. Looking to stay the night?" Cheerful for a guard, he wore a gambeson with a steel kettle hat.

"Sure are," Durroum met his cheerful reception. "Would you have lodging for two?"

"We sure do. We always welcome travelers. Helps break up the monotony." He waved them over.

"Surely it's not that bad?"

"You have no idea," he said, with an exasperated tone. "Being sent out here is practically a punishment, though supposedly it's a great honor, but they ain’t fooling anyone."

"I would assume it a great post. Defending the nation from your old enemy while getting to take it easy."

"It's great if you like playing cards and polishing your sword for terms on end, but a man's got his limits." He pushed open the heavy door.

"Do you mean polish your sword or... POLISH YOUR SWORD?" It was just like Durroum to ask such a question.

"Both." He waved them in. "Hey fellas, we got some visitors for the night." A handful of soldiers played cards at a notched wooden table. It fit in with the all-stone construction of the tower.

"Well now," A big man with a thick tiddy beard said in an authoritative voice. "In that case, we will have the kitchen prepare extra servings."

"Already on it, Captain," said a man wearing a black apron with a white shirt and brown trousers, pouring over a large cook pot, dashing in this and that, like a witch tending her cauldron. So enraptured with his work, he didn't even spare the newcomers a glance. That explained the scent of stewing meat and select herbs that permeated the place.

Durroum's head turned at the sound of boots on stone. "Do we have visitors, Captain?" came the voice of a young lady. Durroum wouldn't miss that anywhere. He turned to see a young female soldier—maybe early twenties—striding down the stairs. Their eyes met as she reached the ground floor. "Oh..." She flashed him a coy smile. He couldn't help but grin back.

She had a plain yet shapely face with brown hair tied back in a bun—6 out of 10. Like the rest of the soldiers, she wore that same style of gambeson, fitting snugly against what he could tell was a well-toned body—9 out of 10, with a potential 10 out of 10 pending inspection. Durroum would be working his magic tonight.

"Is that your son or daughter with you?" He snapped back to reality and looked about, confused, until he saw the Captain pointing to Amm Par. Well damn... He had completely forgotten about her.

The Captain's mistake tempted him to go along with it—it would be simpler that way—but doubtless, her identity couldn't remain elusive for the entire night. Of course, the more pressing issue was that a yutsuukitsuu might draw attention away from him! He looked at the young lady only a stride away, but it couldn't be helped. He would just have to put in more effort.

"No, this is Amm Par—at least that's what I call her," he added. "She is a yutsuukitsuu." It was about a fifty-fifty reaction. Some had never heard of a yutsuukitsuu and stared with pinched faces. The rest seemed to have heard of them, but their understanding varied.

"Yutsuukitsuu? Aren't those like fairy creatures from up in the mountains?" one of the soldiers offered.

"The yutsuukitsuu are an innately arcane anthropomorphic fox-like creature, and they range far and wide," the cook rattled off, not breaking stride on his culinary creation.

"Do they abduct children?" A dopey-looking and portly guard asked.

"Hehe," Durrom gave an apologetic chuckle. "No, no, since she doesn't talk, I've just taken to calling her that, since she reminds me of the fabled Amm Par."

"Mmmm! I want to see!" The female soldier's eyes had swelled into each other, and her exuberance could no longer be contained. She rushed over to Amm Par, reaching out to pull back her hood.

"You probably don't want to do that." Durroum grabbed her arm.

"Aye? Why not?"

"For starters, Missy," The Captain said. "You are a soldier. Show some decorum." To which she responded by puffing out her cheeks. He let out a sigh as he scratched his bald head.

"I can't speak much to that issue," Durroum reinserted himself. "But I can say that while she might not be the actual Amm Par, she may have the same temperament, if not more so." Sure, he had never seen her respond that way, but she also kept her distance from people. Come to think of it, how did she feel about this situation? He looked over and found her calmly shifting her head about, perhaps assessing the environment.

"Is that right?" Missy planted her hands on her hips and gave Amm Par an appraising gaze, which Amm Par met. The full sight of that white mask with only a touch of red giving it a menacing facade must have pierced the cuddly aura because she pulled back just a little.

"Hehe." Durroum patted her on the back. "Don't worry. She is harmless, as long as you stay on her good side." He kidded, of course, but he could use this. Fright could be a good catalyst for seducing women.

Durroum spent the next hour meeting the rest of the garrison as they waited for dinner. He conveyed all 15 of their names to Amm Par. She started to get frustrated at around 5, and she couldn't say them anyway, but practice is practice.

Dinner hit with the pleasure of one bereft of decent food due to constant travel, both sweet and savory, proving the cook's act more than show. The crew had pulled together several wooden tables, aligning them into a single long table so everyone could eat together. With everyone lined up, their uniformity stood out, like a Port Alms sailors' choir. Suppose that’s soldiers for you. The exceptions being the Captain, who wore pauldrons on his gambeson; the cook, whom everyone called Cook; and, of course, the three women.

Durroum had met Missy upon first arriving. Then there was Spect, short for inspection, an apparently overbearing and fastidious woman, who insisted that everyone keep the place nice and tidy like a crabby old spinster. She also kept everyone on task, no small feat for such a monotonous station.

"Hougen" Haskel rounded out the roaster, and if you had told him she was truly half hougen, he would have been inclined to believe—though he didn't think it worked that way. Bigger than even the largest man present, this woman could blot out the sun. And it wasn't a surplus of fat. This woman was built like a brick shithouse.

Durroum slid himself in next to Missy, the most comely of the three lasses—Spect was too uptight for his tastes, and Haskel? Well, let's just say he wished to survive the encounter.

Amm Par sat at the other end of the table, feeling no obligation to stay near her travel companion. And at first, it seemed like his fears would be realized. The fear she would get more attention than him! The way she ate drew special attention—lifting her mask just enough to take spoonfuls carefully hidden behind her bountiful sleeve—and while any questions directed to her were only met with silence, this did not stop them from conversing with each other on the subject, occasionally redirecting their inquiries back to him.

However, this proved a blessing in disguise, as Missy's attention seemed primarily focused on him, while Amm Par drew off the other attention. This resulted in almost a private conversation with Missy, letting him really leverage his trademark blend of charm. Yep, Durroum was going to have a most pleasant night.