A Bag of Seeds

Opening the front door, we were greeted by the faint chime of a bell. I stepped forward, immediately spotting a short faerie woman sweeping behind the long counter that made up the back of the shop. She looked down as her mild green ponytail flopped to the side with each brush of her broom.

“Hello,” I announced our presence as I slowly approached.

“Huh?” She responded, pivoting her head towards me, having not heard or choosing to ignore the faint chime of our arrival. “Oh, hello. How are you today?”

She released the broom and walked over to greet us. But as she stepped away, the tool continued to sweep without her.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

“Um, yes,” Reaching into my pocket, I withdrew the small card that Basil had given me when we met before providing the coded phrase. “I’m here for my free yummy with a side of delish.”

“Hmm—” She scrutinized the object, and then thoroughly eyed my party.

Eventually, she handed it back with a large smile.

“Unfortunately, as you can see, it’s late in the day, and all our yummy treats are picked over. But you’re in luck, for tomorrow my daughter is travelling to Fearnemyst for our most sought-after treats. However, you seem to be hardy adventurers. If you wouldn’t mind accompanying her, we will repay you with double the treats.”

The triop looked at me confusedly as I stared at the wide smile of the faerie, one Rosemary Seed, wife of Basil.

While she was not a direct member of Shatter, she did run the business that they used to transport information and goods across territorial lines. Her hands were clean of blood, but she was just as much fighting against the local governments and militaries as the rest of them.

“Okay, we would happily accompany your daughter,” I replied with a smile and nod. “We will return shortly after dawn. Until then, though, may I purchase your remaining vanilla scones? They look delicious.”

Two silver coins later, we left with a dozen decadent treats. Savouring every bite, the triop squealed with delight at the unique and sweet flavours.

It became quickly apparent to me that even though they had passed through Fallowfield numerous times, they had never stopped at the patisserie. Quickly, they insisted I tell them more secret places in this world that they could visit, but I zipped my lips with a wink.

I expressed that they would have to continue to work with me to experience the wonders of Esseria as I knew them. This, of course, was met with a suspicious glare from Rionriv.

The next morning came quickly after an evening of drinking wine and dining on a hearty stew, which was a welcome break from the multiple burrito bowls in a row. Unfortunately, the hangover wasn’t the greatest, but I had discovered earlier in the semester that I had the perfect cure for that. So, after expending some of my magical energy, the four of us were back in fighting shape by the time the patisserie cart had been loaded.

This carriage was actually a stagecoach, fashioned after a World Eighty-Two wild west banking company. Stagecoaches were the primary and safest form of travel from city to city for most, though they were often too pricey for the nonmagical—mundane—people.

A nondescript tan colour, this particular vehicle, at a distance, resembled the diverse hillside grasses. After all, when on the road, any advantage against bandits and monsters was one to take. Especially when delivering goods, which we appeared to be doing today.

By the time we had arrived, the top and back of the stagecoach were packed to capacity and held down with thick leather straps. Even though it didn’t appear secure to me, I understood that this family knew what they were doing and kept my opinions to myself.

As we approached, a young faerie woman stepped up to greet us. Her blueberry hair was done up in a messy bun and bounced energetically as she neared. Butterfly wings affixed to her back glittered in the sunlight, leaving behind the faintest glimmering dust in her wake.

“You must be them.” She spoke dully, her personality the opposite of her vibrance. “I’m Blueberry Crumble Seed. Please enter the stagecoach. If I need assistance, I will alert you.”

“O-oh, are you sure?” I asked, looking between my party and her. “We were okay being a bit more helpful to you.”

“That’s okay, this route is usually only bad during weretiger mating season.” Her eyes darted between us, locking on Rionriv’s ears and tail a moment longer than the rest of the party.

“But seeing as the last full moon of the year was a few nights ago, we should be fine.”

After a brief, awkward moment, Blueberry turned back towards the stagecoach and hopped into her driver’s box.

Glancing forward, I realized that the creatures pulling the carriage weren’t horses, but instead four hares the size of Clydesdales with twisted antelope horns atop their heads.

The triop stared at them in awe as the oversized back legs kicked at their comically large ears.

Moal’aw doesn’t have megafauna like this. I thought to myself, examining the notable change in my story.

The only place you’d find these creatures is on the other side of the Great Divider Mountain Range. I wonder—

“Savana Jackalopes from Ir’fornu?” I asked.

“You’ve got a discerning eye,” Blueberry replied as she turned around and looked at me with a sinister smirk. “You know your beasts. They were legally imported. We have all the paperwork.”

She adjusted herself into the seat as the jackalopes prepared themselves for departure.

I feel like she doesn’t trust us. I thought, trying not to pay more attention than necessary to it.

With a nod to my allies, we quickly entered the stagecoach and situated ourselves in the uncomfortable cabin. As we stopped rustling, there were two bangs on the wall behind me, and with a faint whipping sound, the cart lurched.

I nearly tumbled forward at the sudden acceleration. Beyond the window, the world raced by faster than it would have had we been travelling by horse. And while it was still no automobile, it sure beat walking.

Looking over at Rionriv as she, along with the rest of the girls, stared out the windows at the blur of a world, I couldn’t help but wonder if we had had this stagecoach for the first leg of our journey, if she would have been cursed?

With a shake of my head, I tried to push the thought from my mind again, eventually distracting myself with a childhood classic.

Sticking my arm out the window, I began wriggling it like a worm in the wind of our vehicle. Soon, the others joined me, giggling and laughing, experiencing something novel that, apparently, I had brought with me from World Eighty-Two. Smirking, I watched them as they laughed at the sensation that I took for granted as a child.

All the things I had been worried about faded away with their laughter. And, for a while, things were good.