Quäll Village

The ancient, mystic oak whispered to the nesting birds, and they replied with their eversweet sing-song. The scent of crisp air of his home filled his nostrils. His home was set alongside the border of the Kolka forest, bordering Quäll village. It was a humble abode made of handcrafted planks, carved from the now-fallen oaks that once existed where the cottage stands.

With a sharp exhale, he brought down his trusty axe. The head precisely avoided the knot and bisected the log. Using an old checkered rag from his hind pocket, he wiped the accumulated sweat that trickled down the side of his cheek. Looking back at the rag, it was stained a deep red. The words ‘do not seek the key’ were etched in blood. Heinri rubbed his eyes and used his hand to feel his face, finding only clear sweat on his fingers and the rag. 

‘It was but a dream and only that’ he reassured himself.

His most striking feature was a moderately sized oval-shaped scar around the left side of his lips that he had had for as long as he could remember. He parted his shaggy brownish-blonde hair with his fingers to keep them from getting into his eyes and then turned to look at the pile.

He smiled towards his achievement. ‘With this I should be able to drop by Olen’s for a-’. His thoughts were interrupted by a bright high pitched voice, a voice that he knew well.

“Heinri! You haven’t come around in ages, stop being such a brood!”

The rose-haired girl pouted. She was wearing a sky-blue woolen dress with pigtails that went to her shoulder. Her dress had small homemade patches littered over in bright colours, which she claimed was for ‘artistic expression’. The truth was that she’s too stubborn to let go of the dress that was gifted to her by her older sister.

“Good grief. You know you shouldn’t be out here in the forest without someone else Pölle. How many times has your dad told you this?” Heinri groaned.

Her beady eyes turned into a glare. Heinri’s younger cousin, despite her bright nature, was of the rebellious sort. Hence, she would frequently get annoyed by the concerned nagging of her elders.

“Wha- This is why no one wants to marry you, you could out-nag a wyrvim you old man!”

Heinri made a sour expression and barked back.

“I’m only twenty-five you brat! There’s no one in the village that isn’t a nosy good-for-nothing gossiper. A-and at least the wyrvim wouldn’t annoy me even a hundredth as much as them.”

The offended Heinri recounted the tale of wyrvim in his mind: snake-like creatures with wings, their mating cries would often drive men mad.

In Pölle’s hand was a woven basket with glass vials containing an opaque orange fluid and writing that Heinri couldn’t understand. He also spotted an envelope sealed with wax, showing a familiar symbol of a manticore.

Heinri let out a deep sigh.

“Anyways, what has Uncle Brok delivered this time?” Heinri asked with a slightly concerned expression.

“Just something to help prevent the bovine-sickness that’s been going around some of the local villages.”

“Bovine-sickness?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Like cow sickness you idiot, geez, I can teach you how to read and expand your vocabulary ya know? Big sis Fen has been trying to teach you for ages!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but do I have to take it? I haven’t been around any cattle?”

“Well if you want to go to the village to sell that timber, you’ll definitely not want to catch it from one of the farmers, I’ve heard that after a week you can only speak by mooing!” She poked her tongue out at him like a lizard, making a raspberry sound.

Polle then made an ominous expression that frightened even the stoic Heinri.

He was reluctant to take any sort of medication, as despite his Uncle being a prolific pharmacist in the region, his mother always believed in a more ‘natural’ approach to overcoming sickness and those sorts. Any time he’d have to take medicine he’d feel his stomach curl. He was never able to remember any specific root of why this was. The memories of Heinri’s childhood had largely escaped his mind.

Maybe it was out of forgetfulness. Maybe he wanted to block out the relentless bullying of the other kids. Maybe it was something else entirely. The truth however was that he did not know why this was the case.

“Alright, if the boss says so.” He grumbled, sporting a defeated look. 

He knew that if he kept pushing back Pölle’s onslaught of the nagging she said she hated so much, he would never hear the end of it until his hair grayed and he lay in his deathbed.

Overcoming his hesitation, he snatched one of the vials and chugged it down. Unfortunately Pölle was looking towards the trees at that particular moment so she didn’t see Heinri’s ‘courage’ in drinking the foreign fluid. It burned like drinking tea that is still scalding. Pölle had a puzzled expression on her face, her jaw dropped as her sapphire eyes dilated.

”That’s the wrong one, a-and you’re not supposed to chug it moron! That’s supposed to be five doses worth!”

“F-five?! How am I supposed to know? They all look the sa-”

Heinri’s head throbbed in pain as his vision began to blur. He tried to remain standing but his limbs immediately went numb as he fell onto the dirt.

Everything was hazed, like the dream from the other night. Heinri found himself standing in front of a door the colour of amber. There was a broken silver padlock still on the latch. He could smell blood but he knew that for some reason he couldn’t avert his gaze from it, the door was calling to him.

“No stop, Heinri- don’t do it! Do not open the door!” The voice of a man  cried out.

It was distorted so he could not figure out who it was, but it rang with a sense of familiarity. As his hand reached towards the door he found himself sinking into an ocean of nothingness.

Do not seek the key.

Heinri woke up.

‘Must be another night terror’ Heinri thought to himself as he sat up in a room that was not his own. The decor had a rustic and ornate feel to it. Each wall was lined with all sorts of shelves containing several jars and vials either empty or containing some unnaturally coloured fluid. A brass chandelier hung proudly from the ceiling, its wicks were almost burnt out. A pain throbbed in Heinri’s head, prompting him to put his brow into his hands. He felt bandages wrapped around the part that was hurting the most and putting two-and-two together, he then realised where he was. Before he could gather his recollection, Heinri was interrupted by the exquisitely carved birch door flying open with mighty force.

“The boy has awoken! How won-won-wonderful!”

A man of, well, circular proportions busted into the room in a sing-song voice way too enthusiastic for his age.

“Hey uncle, I’m sorry for taking up precious space in your clinic.”

Heinri bowed slightly, while rubbing the back of his head. He felt remorse for being a burden to his already busy uncle and cousins. Brok, dressed in a white apron and flower-patterned mittens, drummed his belly and exclaimed.

“Nonsense child, you always have a place back here! Think of it as your hoooooome!”

For once Heinri thought Brok spoke without adding his frankly awful opera sing-song, but he was sorely disappointed.

“Ah, thank you uncl-”

Heinri paused his sentence as he saw Brok raise his bushy eyebrows. One could never usually see his eyes due to how thick his eyebrows were so ascertaining any sort of expression was difficult. Brok’s eyebrows furrowed as he turned red.

“You bastard! You drank the medicine I made for the guildmaster I poured days into! Why must you punish your poor uncle so?”

Brok then buried his head into the flowery mittens. Although he would never admit he was almost bald, the few remaining strands of hair were in-fact clinging on for dear life. Heinri could swear he could see Brok taking peeks up at him while dramatically ‘crying’ to gauge his reaction.

Knowing that there was no easy way out, he tried to console him.

“I-I’m sorry uncle! But seriously you can’t make all the medicine look the same!”

At that moment, he saw someone flying towards him, not realising until too late that Pölle had dropkicked him.

“If you weren’t so stubborn and let Fen teach you how to read, this wouldn’t have happened! I can’t take my eyes off you for even a second!”

As Heinri desperately tried to defend this barrage of both physical and emotional attacks, an angel came to his rescue. Fenice was dressed in her usual floral green dress which hid her otherwise menacing resting face. She had hair a deeper red than her younger sister which was let out and reached halfway down her back.

Fenice was the ‘mother’ of the Ainsbach family in a sense, keeping them all in line. With a swing of the large frying pan Fen was wielding, Pölle’s head made an identical sound to the ringing of a church bell and finally the commotion came to a halt. The frying pan now pictured a perfect indent of Pölle’s head. She then quickly snapped to glare at her sister with a visible thirst for revenge.

Fen, who was now being chased by the now screaming Pölle, bolted into the kitchen where the sounds of clattering dishes and indescribable carnage were taking place. Amidst the warfare outside of the room, Brok calmly walked over and shut the door, though this only slightly mitigated the obscene volume of the two beasts. ‘At least nothing has changed’ Heinri thought as he let out a slight smile.

“I remember when you were last visiting. Must have been what, two years back?”

Brok paused and made a somber before resuming his cheerful demeanor.

“Heinri, you don’t know how much I-we have missed you! You really do need to come more often!”

“I-uh really shouldn’t take too much of your time Uncle. I can’t leave my timber out too long lest it rains.” Heinri spoke with hesitation, avoiding eye contact with Brok.

Although he wished that he did visit his only family more, Heinri could never stay in the house too long.

“I know that coming here is difficult to you, but- oh well nevermind that, I sent Pölle over not only to give you the prescription, but the Slayer's Guild has put in a request for you.” Brok pulled out the letter with the seal of the manticore.

“Does this have something to do with that beaver-sickness going around?” Heinri asked.

Heinri did not know why, but he could see Brok’s mouth open in sheer disappointment. Even though his bushy rectangular mustache masked much of his expression, Heinri could still sense it. Brok looked as though he was going to say something else, but instead continued.

“Beaver? You must be joking boy, I- well, anyway, before you go to the guild though, can I ask you to take Fenice and Pölle to the tavern? I’ve been meaning to take them out for a good meal but with the BOVINE-SICKNESS going around my schedule has been way too tight.”

“I probably shouldn’t, with the letter from the hunter’s guild and everything I should get back.”

He noticed that the noise outside had come to a halt.

“Haha, don’t worry Heinri I’ve sorted it! The guildmaster told me you weren’t needed for another few days! Better get going then, while those two demons are on a truce!”

Heinri awkwardly smiled as Brok tossed him a small pouch. As it landed in Heinri’s palm it made a ‘ching’ sound.

“Dinner’s on me, just get back in one piece, eh?” Brok gave what Heinri thought was a wink, but it was too difficult to know for sure.

“Uh, sure!”

Leaving the bedroom, it was as if the kitchen had been turned upside-down. Fragmented ceramic from various assortments of plates, bowls and the like littered the pristine white tiles. Further along, cutlery was sticking out obliquely from the wall as if they were used as darts. In the center of the mess stood the two sisters, now breathless and worn-out from their bout. The concerned Heinri finally spoke.

“Hey! You guys done yet?”

Pölle and Fenice broke their ‘glaring contest’ to look at him, then immediately turned their faces from that of a demon to a saint.

“I’ll settle it for sure next time!” Fen exclaimed.

“Huh? I’ll send you straight into the Avgrund!” Polle barked.

“I’ll destroy y-”

Heinri stood in before the rest of the house became victim to another onslaught and karate chopped both of his cousins on the head with only just enough force to pacify them.

“Cut it out, you two!”

‘Can’t catch a break’ Heinri thought, advising himself to be extra sure to make a note to keep them under control on their outing.

With Pölle and Fen now defeated and teary eyed, the trio made their way through the kitchen into the pharmacy. The house was of an unusual layout that his uncle had custom designed. Whilst Heinri personally thought it was pretty ugly, having the house connected to the pharmacy made it substantially easier for Brok to see patients while Pölle and Fen were younger. Walking through to the exit, they passed an ornate door that he had never gone through, locked with a delicate silver padlock. He felt his heartbeat speed up and sweat started to form on his brow. ‘Must be the after-effects of the medicine I had’ he thought to himself, now calming down. Heinri remembered Fen saying that Brok had barred anyone from going in, as it was a separate room for classified research. ‘It must be funded by the nobles for such a thing, after all, uncle is said to be a generational talent. Concocting medicine that has helped countless even beyond Quall’.

Heinri acknowledged that if it’s for the betterment of Quall, he should just repress his curiosity to find out what’s behind the door.